That Which We Have Loved
by ForeverWanderer
Summary: The love letters of Link and Zelda, and the story of how they saved each other. Based on the vintage games.
1. Awakening

Once you've met your soul-mate, you never look back. This story is dedicated to my soul-mates. I'm forever changed, and forever grateful.

Disclaimer: I don't own Zelda. Zelda clearly owns me :P

* * *

 **Prelude**

If Peace had a sound, this was it: surrounding him, filling his mind, fading and returning like a breath. The danger was gone, but so was the memory. Blinding light against his eyelids. Was he dead? No, for he felt pain, real and perfect slicing through his being. But where was he, and how could a sound this perfect exist in life?

The breath of sound nudged at his mind until memory began to return. Of course… the ocean. Waves, pounding, crashing… endless.

A shadow blocked the light from his eyes, and he chanced opening them. The image was blurred, outlined by a bright crown of sunlight. Long hair flowed down, almost touching his face.

"Zelda…"

* * *

 _Chapter One_

 **Awakening**

The days at first were little more than cascades of light, a dance of sun and clouds, rays of light sifting and changing through the window by Link's bed. Fever bloomed and breathed through him, a parasite- but the world outside was calm. Time regained clarity as his memory returned: Lightning had splintered his galleon and left it to sink, burning, into the waters. A thousand fearsome tides drove him farther and farther away from his beloved Hyrule, with no promise of land or life.

He hoped he was in Hyrule but had a deep feeling he wasn't. A girl had found him: not Zelda, he was now certain. He heard her speak to him one day as she laid a cool, damp cloth against his forehead. He must have said something first, for she said,

"I'm sorry- we've found no one else."

Link struggled through the fog to respond. His own voice sounded far away.

"How long have I been here?"

"A week, as the moon rises. You're on the mend."

As is sometimes the way with fever, a deep sense of peace overwhelmed him. Though he would not feel it again for a long time, he sensed that he was meant to be here. Sweet smells of unfamiliar flowers and the songs of strange birds wafted through the window, and his world, though confined to that small room, felt large. The girl studied him, and he spoke to her again.

"Where am I?"

She pressed a mug gently to his lips. He drank-it burned his throat- and she said, "Koholint, the Island of the Windfish. You are fortunate to have survived the storm. We saw it on our western horizon for three days. You must have curried favor with the gods, elsewhere in your travels." Her voice was soft but there was something dark in how she said it. She took the mug away. Link looked at her truly for the first time, taking in her features. In her eyes he could read nothing.

"What are you called?"

A smile touched her lips. "I'll return. Sleep, and dream." No sooner had the burning drought reached his chest, he fell into a deep sleep.

And he was back in the dungeon, and the rot from the bodies filled his senses once again- he knew he was dreaming, but he would never get away from that smell. Perfect dark, perfect silence, until he turned the corner. Moonlight shone through the barred window of the one cell with a living prisoner. A crumpled heap in the corner, dress ruined in dirt and filth. A creature- was it destroyed? Could it live again? It opened its eyes- wide grey eyes, huge and sunken. It was a girl, not older than he. _She might live-_ the thought burrowed within him. That thought gave him the strength to kill Ganon.

Another dream, brighter, golden. Now he had spent years watching her face- _was it destroyed? Could it live again?-_ and, gods, in this moment, she was radiant. Fragrant autumn leaves covered the ground. The abandoned orchard, their favorite place to rest and let the horses roam. Alone as anyone could be, with a princess. Out of view of the handmaidens and guards. What they did here varied from dream to dream. How many times had she kissed him, here, and he felt the heat of her mouth? Never in waking life, though, and no number of kisses could change what happened next.

This time, though- this dream, no kiss- She laughed and it echoed strangely into the clouds. "Let us read the bones, Link," and she drew out her leather pouch, spilled the contents between them with a fierce mischief in her eyes. A bird's bones, and the skull rose at once to his face and kissed his eyes, and they bled, and bled…

"Shhh, shhhh… wake up, wake up!" An urgent whisper, and the girl was shaking him awake. "What are you called? Tell me- I'll protect you." He was shaking uncontrollably, unable to answer. She spoke again. "I'm Marin, daughter of Tarin. Tell me your name. Speak. Find your strength again with words. You are alive- you are safe!"

"Link…" He forced out. What had he said, in his dreaming? "Link- I'm called Link. Of Hyrule."

"Your dreams have power here." After she spoke, quiet loomed. "I'll protect you," She repeated softly.

It was Marin's idea to write a letter. Send word that he was safe. "Promise you'll return, and it will come true. Now- who do you miss?"

"I don't understand…"

But she left him quill and ink and a small fold of paper. He willed his hand to stop trembling and penned a few sentences. When she returned, a beautiful gray-blue messenger-bird was perched on her arm. She wore a falconer's glove, the bird was so large.

"Do you have anything that belongs to her? A belonging will bind the bird to her and he will always be able to find her."

Link's head swam. This was happening too fast. The girl Marin spoke in terms of eternity. He didn't want to send a letter, he wanted to _be_ on the next boat, well or no. Did she expect him to die? What kind of magic was this?

He remembered the galleon, and suddenly realized all of his belongings had been were now on the bottom of the ocean. His sword, his shield… all her letters from the past year…

"Anything, Link. A belonging of hers. That ring on your finger, perhaps?"

He looked at his hand. A gift from the king, with three triangle jewels, in the shape of the Triforce. But she had presented it to him- it had passed through her hands. She had placed it on his finger. That wry secret smile with which she had done it made his heart pound even now, remembering it. He pulled the ring from his finger. It was his best shot. Marin twined it to the bird's leg.

There was still so much he didn't understand- but in exhaustion, he yielded to sleep.

And, sleeping, he dreamed once more of Zelda.


	2. The House of the Ancient Man

_Chapter Two_

 **The House of the Ancient Man**

* * *

It was once a castle in its own right, though small and hidden now by forest. A house, really: but great once, in its time. The king of that age was a great hunter and built this lodge as a retreat from his jealous wife. Folk used to say he came here to hunt the moon goddess, who took the form of a hind every full moon, and if only the king could strike an arrow through the heart of the deer, he would win the moon goddess as his queen. Some magic, perhaps moon magic, had surely fallen here, though not the kind he dreamed of. That was many generations ago.

Approaching the house, Zelda remembered how, the first time she came here, she could hear the confused humming of the Ancient Man. Now, all was silent, and her heart flipped around in her chest. Not easily could she give her handmaidens and guards the slip. She'd been trying for weeks. Hours and hours, still, before dawn. In the forest, in the dark, she had found the house. People stayed away, because it was haunted. Even the most hardened of thieves and monsters could not take up residence there for long. The Ancient Man reigned there.

He wasn't a ghost, let the scared villagers believe what they wished. But Zelda was no more sure of what he was than they. Impa knew, and would not tell, and bid Zelda hush, whenever she tried to ask.

Zelda entered the house, hand on the hilt of her knife. All was utterly still. The house itself was empty, gutted over centuries.

In the attic, was the man. He sat in the corner, a dusty, living corpse. He was quiet, perfectly still. Not breathing. A dead man, but not dead. Re-dead, but more.

"Ancient Man," Zelda whispered, hoping he would choose to rouse himself for her.

A moment or two passed, then he opened one eye. A spider crawled down his cheek.

The stench filled the attic and Zelda had to fight not to vomit. But now that she was here- her question thundered within her.

"One Question, for the spell- just one-"

 _Give me hope, please, that's all I'm asking._

The Ancient Man rolled his eye over her with what almost could be amusement _._

"Do you need the remains?"

He opened his mouth. Dust wafted out, a mockery of breath. He tilted his head in a way that the living cannot, and smiled cracked lips, cracked cheeks. He jerked forward for a moment- Zelda nearly jumped out of her skin. But he made no move toward her, just slumped back and started a long, tired moan.

There were rules about death, she knew. In most cases it was permanent. Nothing could ever bring back most of the dead- not to their full form, their full beauty and life. But she knew it had been done, could be done, and the Ancient Man was the closest to that she had ever seen.

But what she knew of the circumstances: a victim of murder had a much easier time of returning. It was easier to take back something stolen from you than what you were due to give. And the young had a much easier time of it than the old, who were more tired of life.

She pitied the ancient man, whoever he was. He had been old, and it had been his time. Why had he insisted on living? And who had resurrected him, knowing it was his time? Who was so desperate…

Zelda understood desperation. But her situation had always been different. Her mother died at twenty years old. She would be thirty-eight, today, had she lived. And her bones could be found, Zelda could feel it- they had to be near. She could not have gotten far, that night.

But now this…

 _Link…_

His ship was due to return over a month ago. She had finally admitted it to herself last night: he was dead. She had sent for word from New Kasuto, where his ship was supposed to dock. A message came back: the villagers had seen a storm on the eastern horizon for three days and three nights, the week he was supposed to arrive.

A cold clutched around Zelda like claws.

"Please," She asked the dead man again in a choked whisper. "I need to bring him back."

The Ancient man looked at her with bright whitewashed eyes, almost glowing as he smiled.

"The ashes, or the bones. The ashes, or the bones. Dyn formed us from the clay of the earth, not the spirits of the air. The ashes, or the bones, _my_ _daughter of despair."_

His laughter- a horrible sound- now filled the room, and she flinched away. The sound of it followed her down the stairs, and she ran and ran, out into the dark woods.

In a meadow, not far from the castle walls, Zelda finally collapsed, and now lay pressed against the cold, moist earth. The indigo hue of the sky was growing lighter: the sun would soon rise. The princess lay there, watching the stars slowly fade. Her eyes fixed on one star, glowing faintly amid wisps of clouds. She stared at it, let it contain her whole world. Nothing existed beyond that one star. There could not exist a world without Link.

Time had no meaning now. The indigo did not fade. The clouds did not move. She couldn't breathe, if she thought of the meaning of this. She could not live anymore.

So she focused on the star: lovely, flickering, dancing in the dark morning- a strange, sweet spark of beauty in a land that held nothing for her anymore. Lovely, yes. A promise that things could still be innocent and beautiful. That the world will continue to exist, even though Zelda no longer seemed to.

She thought she knew what it felt like to be nothing. She had been treated that way in the dungeon- years ago, before she even knew how to hope. And she had lost eight months of her life to the deep, dreamless spell-sleep. She had been as good as dead, she had ceased to exist. But this…

Zelda watched the star dance, and felt nothing. It glowed brighter and brighter, as stars tend to, before they finally disappear in the morning light. But this one was different. Finally, Zelda noticed. Awareness slowly returned to her, as though she were waking from a dream. The star _was_ dancing, in a way that stars shouldn't. In fact, it looked like it was approaching. And then, like a faerie, a bird bent its wings for a landing. Not thinking, Zelda held out her arm. A large bird landed gently there, and let out a soft croon. Its talons dug into her arm, tearing up the sleeve of her dress. It tilted its head to look down at the princess, black eyes expectant. She sat up slowly, brought up two fingers to stroke its crest- it stretched its neck with pleasure.

The pigeon had something attached to its leg. A ring- that could only belong to one person- She drew in a sharp breath- she didn't dare believe…

The jewels of the ring must have been what glowed like a star, even from such a far distance off. Up close, it sparkled like a normal jewel. What strange magic could do this…

She saw what was tied next to it. Her fingers trembled to touch it. Gently, she unfurled the small scroll. Dawn was light enough now, that she could see the letters.

She recognized the handwriting, and wept to read it.

* * *

Midmorning sun beamed into her room as Zelda woke, handmaidens bustling in and out of her room, whispered gossip as they passed: no doubt of her runaway. She hadn't been able to slip back into the castle unnoticed- Impa and the guards were searching for her- but Impa's rebuke lost much of its sternness when Zelda revealed the strange blue bird, and more importantly, the message it delivered.

 _Princess,_

 _Safe on the island Koholint. Galleon caught in storm. Awaiting passage on next trading ship. Will come home as soon as I can. Pray Faerore will fill our sails with bright winds. I remain yours- Link._

Zelda was allowed to collapse on her bed and now, waking up, the winds swirling through her tower chambers felt bright indeed. She pulled back the covers and went to the window, pushed the casement full open. The sky was crisp blue and her kingdom sprawled before her in rich summer's-end verdure. It was almost enough to make Zelda forget the House in the dark woods, and the Ancient Man's terrible words.

Zelda turned away from the window and bid her handmaidens leave her alone. Her gaze traveled around the room until, inevitably, it rested on her desk in the alcove, and the books piled there. Wind gusted in, billowing in the curtains, flipping the heavy pages of one open book. Drawn to it, Zelda approached the desk. She'd been careless lately, leaving them out, even if none of the handmaidens could read, much less Old Hyrulean. Impa knew what they were, muttered her disapproval whenever she saw them- but she would never tell the king.

Grimoires- old magic. Dark magic. Pieces of the secret of resurrection- among other forbidden spells. Link would be angry, if he knew. But this past month, they had been her only solace.

Zelda took a deep breath, reached out, and shut the book. One at a time, she tied the leather straps around each, and returned them to their hiding spot, the bottom of a chest she kept locked. The wind picked up again, toppling over a candlestick- the wind seemed to hum, as it wended its way between the upper towers. Zelda stepped out to the balcony, let the wind lift her hair, pound against her chest. _Cleanse me of this darkness, Naeyru_ \- she prayed silently.

But she knew, deep in her heart, she was a daughter of Dyn.


	3. Fragments of Forgotten Songs

_Chapter Three_

 _ **Fragments of Forgotten Songs**_

The first few days after the fever broke, Link wandered only as far as the beach, just down the path from Marin's house. Neither Marin nor her father asked him any questions, just fed him and put cups of warm frothy drinks in his hands. With nothing but quiet and the distant pounding of the waves, his thoughts could drift freely. But his thoughts would always return to her.

 _Zelda._

How much had they changed, in the year they'd been apart? He'd had plenty of time to wonder that in his month at sea. He tried to push the thought out of his mind now. He had almost accepted life as a wanderer again- as it had been when he was a boy- when he got the letter from Harkinian, bidding him home. And yes, the need for adventure was in his blood, but no kingdom was like Hyrule. And there was no one- no one, in this lonely world- like Zelda.

The waves seemed to answer that thought with a soft crashing sound like longing. Link breathed in the salty air, let out a deep sigh. He glimpsed Marin farther down the shore, gathering driftwood. Waves beating on nearby rocks sent up a spray. Link glanced down at his feet, where he'd unknowingly drawn a triforce in the sand.

He should have told Zelda he was in love with her- he realized that now.

It's funny- he thought he had all the time in the world- how stupid he'd been. Now, even though he was so close to home, with only this island as a short delay, he felt like he was running out of time. When she was under the sleeping spell, the world as he knew it was gone, yet again. And when he broke the spell, and she was awake and free again, after so many months of him soaking the countryside in moblin blood, hunting those damned crystals- he should have asked for her hand, that night. Instead, the king asked him to travel, to train with knights and princes from all over, so that when he returned, he could recruit and train a new army for Hyrule, so that never again would the kingdom- or the princess- be in danger.

If he at least knew that she returned his love, that she was waiting for him…

The ocean glittered blue, and fog off in the distance blurred the horizon. Marin was now in shouting distance, and when he turned to look at her, she waved and yelled a greeting. Her voice was far off, and seemed to be carried away by the waters.

What could he have expected, though? An orphan, winning the hand of a princess? Even the golden goddesses couldn't arrange that.

Marin had stopped in front of him and was waiting for him to notice. He finally looked up: the glare of the sun couldn't hide her wry smile.

"Care to join me at the market? I could use some help."

Well, Link was nothing if not helpful, so he stood, brushed the sand off of himself. Adjusted his belt. He noticed how tattered his clothes were.

"Am I fit for market?"

Marin laughed. "This is a fisherman's village, Link, you're fit for nearly anything." He followed her up the path. She glanced back at him: "Although we could get you a new tunic. I chanced upon a purse of gold rupees not far from where we found you." She said it in such a way as to make him wonder if she "found" it by cutting it from his belt. He bit back a laugh. "How lucky of you."

He followed her silently up the path, through the house where she loaded him down with baskets and pointed out more to load the cart- and together, they led the donkey and cart to the town square. Link tried to remain present, as she pointed out neighbor's homes and told stories about their weird cats, or when she showed him some hill off in the distance and where the springs or standing stones could be found. In the village square, he could still see bits of ocean downhill between cottages and trees; nothing on this side of the island, it seemed, but lonely little fisherman's docks interrupting the shoreline. He couldn't help but interrupt Marin, in the middle of a story about a glen in the woods with a temple.

"When will the next trade boat arrive?"

Marin stopped short, heavy fruit halfway from her basket to the table.

"Pardon?"

"I'm- I'm sorry," Link stammered. "I'm sorry to interrupt you. I was just wondering when the next ship might be coming in that's heading toward Hyrule. Or the desert kingdoms to the south, I can make my way home from there if need be."

Marin was speechless, mouth half open as she stared at him. He had hurt her, somehow. He stepped back a little, baffled. How did he even have the power to hurt her? What had he said?

"I- I said something wrong," He hoped he had committed some cultural faux pas and hadn't actually hurt her. He knew how easy it was to offend when abroad. She stared at him a moment longer, searching his gaze with pain written across her face. Then she looked away, regaining composure.

"No, no, it's okay," She said a little too lightly. "You… surprised me, that's all. Let's not talk about boats right now. Let's sell all this fruit, huh? My father owns the only kopi-fruit trees on the island- he had brought them over from his homeland when he first arrived, and planted a grove." A small smile touched her lips. She peeled one in her hand. "He doesn't fence them in, though- he believes trees belong to everyone. A great businessman, no?" And her smile was full wry again as she handed Link the peeled fruit to try. The pink flesh of the fruit was tart and sweet, and stuck to his fingers.

For all of Tarin's negligence in business, the fruit sold quickly. Link and Marin wandered around the marketplace after selling everything, found a new shirt for Link- "Keep the change," Marin winked at Link after paying the old lady, and tossed him, indeed, his own purse full of gold rupees. With her own profits, Marin bought fragrant spices from one booth, and three piping hot hand pies from another. She handed one to Link, practically oozing a deep purple juice. From a child's "wares" spread out on a blanket in the dust, she bought a conch shell. The child laughed and clapped when she flipped the rupee in the air toward him and it glittered in the sun.

At the end of the day, they walked back in silence, with donkey and empty cart. Link saw to the animal and then joined Tarin in tying up his little fishing-boat. In the house, Marin had left the third pie for her father and he relished in it, even though it had cooled. Tarin ambled on in a congenial way about the weather, the names for all the different types of clouds and what kinds of storms they might be a sign of.

"Have you lived on the island very long?" Link asked when the conversation had lulled.

"Aye, yes, but not me whole life," Tarin answered thoughtfully. "Came here when Marin was but a babe. Near seventeen years ago, I'd measure."

"Where did you come from originally?" Link thought of the exotic, pink kopi-fruit, and wondered if he had been a merchant before settling here.

"You know, now's me thinks of it, I don't right remember." He chuckled. "This island'll do that to you if you're not careful." He patted Link gruffly on the back. Alarmed, Link's other questions died in his throat.

A little more than a week passed in much the same way. The moon was waxing full, luminous and bright, framed nightly in thin strips of timid cloud. More than once Link had walked the beach at night and heard a strange, haunting melody, carried clear on the air from some distance.

Link had stopped broaching difficult subjects for the present- Marin was sweet-tempered but quieter now. She was trying to hide some sad thought from him, he could tell. Did she not want him to leave? Life must get lonely here.

The afternoon before the moon would reach true full, Link came back from exploring the village to find Tarin calling to him from the dock.

"Ye has a visitor in your room," He said, and pointed back at the house. Link's heart pounded in his throat. For one crazy second, he thought it might be Zelda, but drove that thought from his mind. He entered his room to find no one at all- at first. Then he caught a movement near the bed: a bird fluttering in surprise. His bird.

 _Dearest Link,_

 _I thought you were dead. Don't do that to me again or I will kill you myself._

Link laughed heartily, from the depths of his being. Relief flooded over him; he read that first sentence over and over. And _Dearest Link_ made his stomach do flips.

 _I've tested heavier burdens on our bird-friend and trust that he can deliver a longer letter than that which you risked. I see you've put a binding spell on the bird- sophisticated magic! This bird has intelligent eyes- I trust it will find you again._

 _I'll not overburden you or Bird, however, with the petty happenings to which my life of late has been diminished. An endless trial of hollow emptiness. North Castle is cold and gray as ever. Without you, every second aches. My father lives in terror of Ganon's minions, who still wreak havoc in Hyrule's more untamed landscapes. The neighboring kingdoms, however, pose another threat. Keretia is the worst of them. We expect ambassadors from Sosaria to arrive any day now to advise us on our dealings with them._

 _Though the royal family of Sosaria is wise and just, and their sons valiant, I loathe how weak we've become. I wish you were here, if only to show the world that Hyrule has its heroes, too. As it is, if you don't come home soon, it will all be up to me. But it does not matter- I am determined. I am not afraid of anything- a virtue I owe to you once more._

 _Yours,_

 _Zelda_

Link read the letter over and over again. "Zelda," he sighed out-loud, seeing her in his mind's eye out in the fields with Bird, digging his claws into her falconry glove against the wind as she experimented with heavy papers, better fastenings. Tinkering by the fire in her chambers with the binding spell, reading it in crystals and darkwaters. Her hair aglow with firelight. Her eyes, hungry for knowledge. Snapping at him, as she always did as their verbal sparring unfolded, as evening deepened, before Impa or the handmaidens shooed him away, back to his own humble dwelling.

It took many a reading, admiring the curves of her fine penmanship, before he actually considered the content. Sosaria and its three princes were indeed wise and valiant, and great allies to Hyrule- all of which Link suddenly found aggravating- but he pushed unbidden thoughts from his head. He'd met the three sons during his travels. They were good men, and Zelda had known them all, her whole life, never once expressing interest in any of them. He shook his head, bringing his thoughts back to the issue at hand. Keretia had always made loud, outrageous claims to parts of Hyrule on its border, and moreso since Ganon's minions put Zelda under the sleeping spell two years ago, but had something happened, since she last written him?

 _Without you, every second aches._

Link let those words pour over him, again and again. Not in any letter had she been so… open with him.

Link let out a gasp, realizing suddenly: all the letters she had written him, this whole year he'd been away, were now at the bottom of the ocean.

Feeling like he might drown, Link stood up, took a deep breath and went to the kitchen, found some breadcrusts and, after feeding them to Bird, stepped numbly out into the clear afternoon air. The day was softly lit, the waves gentle upon the shore. He walked down to the beach, to listen to the waves as he turned Zelda's words over in his head.

Then he heard it: the strange, haunting melody that mingled softly with the crashing of the waves. Determined to find the source, he followed the sound toward the cliffs, jumping boulder to boulder at their base.

Then he saw her. Marin. Sitting on a rock, staring out at the sea. She played a lyre and sang a song whose melody was a wave that broke upon his bones.

Link didn't know how long he stood there, breathing in the melody. Finally, she saw him, and he had to come forward.

"You've found my hiding spot," Marin smiled a little and let the lyre rest in her lap. "Usually my song doesn't carry so far."

"Forgive me for intruding," Link said. There was something in her music he recognized: grief. Some deep grief, unknowable to others. Zelda had it, that's how he recognized it. When she worked her highest magic, making bright blue flames out of nothing and spinning them in a dance- he could see it in her then, in their reflection in her eyes. He would say it was the dungeon, but it was deeper than that. Older. Lifetimes old, perhaps.

"There's nothing to forgive," Marin said, studying him with a steady gaze. Then she tilted her head back, closing her eyes to the breeze. "Take a look at the horizon."

Link turned. The day was cloudy and gray: the line between ocean and sky, far off in the distance, was dissolved in the mist.

"It's hazy today," he said.

"It's hazy every day," Marin said bitterly. "Look out to the horizon- any day, any moment. You can never see where the sky meets the ocean. The view is always shrouded in mist."

A sense of dread was rising in Link as he listened to her words.

"I've tried to leave this island before, Link. I've built boats, I've sent out smoke signals… nothing works. If you're lucky, your boat will meet a storm, just as Koholint begins to fade away in the distance, and the tidal waves will wash you back ashore." Her eyes grew distant with memories for a moment- then quickly hardened to stone.

"If you're not lucky, your boat will crash against the barrier reef, and you probably won't make it back alive. This island isn't like the rest of the world. When I was young, my Da' used to tell tales of his travels. But here, on the island… you can't leave. Koholint won't let you. There's a veil between it and the rest of the world." Her voice cracked for a second. "You might never leave this island, Link."

Link's mouth went dry, hearing this. His heart felt like it was slowly dropping through him.

"There… there is a way, though… right? Has no one ever gotten off this island?"

A long, painfully long moment passed before Marin finally answered.

"There was one… many years ago. Her story is written in the annals kept in the library in the center of the village. Start at the Year of the Molten Fire." Marin turned back to her lyre, plucking mournful chords while she stared out at the ocean, like it was an enemy. "At the center of her story is a deep secret- and that secret lies up the mountain, with the Windfish."

Link nodded blankly, not comprehending. He took leave of Marin, climbing over rocks and boulders, until he somehow found himself back in his room. Light was dying quickly through the window. Bird was perched at the bedpost, preening himself. He bent his head in greeting, and Link stroked the bird distractedly with two fingers as he sat down, his heart like lead in his chest.

He was not looking forward to the letter he had to write to Zelda.


	4. Of Dreams, of Dolls, of Princes Dark

_Chapter Four_

 _Of Dreams, of Dolls, of Princes Dark_

* * *

Zelda wanted to avoid seeing her father but knew that she couldn't, not for much longer. He had not sought her out these last two weeks, and knowing his reprimand was still due, worsened each day.

At last she decided to seek him out, and found him in the Throne room. The room, having not been used much of late for ceremonies, was in shambles. Two long tables were set up to one side, covered in maps and scrolls. Long shafts of light poured onto them from stained glass windows high above. Her father stood at the far end alone, holding a single lantern over a corner of a map, which was shrouded in darkness.

The king looked older than his mere forty years.

The princess took a deep breath and headed down the long stone hallway, letting her echoing footsteps announce her presence. Dust dancing in the rays of colored light looked like twirling faeries- everywhere else was nearly black with darkness.

"Daughter," He rested the lantern on the table and straightened up- his tone was softer than it had been of late.

"You've had news of the young hero, I've heard it said. Tell me."

Zelda was not expecting this as a greeting, but did not hesitate. "He is safe, on an island called Koholint. He'll be home on the next merchant's ship."

The king nodded, a smile touching his lips. "I've never heard of Koholint. Is he far? Does he know his coordinates? We could send a ship, if not many merchants travel there."

"Father," Zelda breathed. It was too much to hope for. "You can't afford to send a ship for him, not with the Jadeth building its fleet…"

"Daughter," he intoned, gently scolding. "You forget, it was my idea to send him away, and it was my idea to send for his return. If it takes a ship of my own to have him in our halls again, I'll send one to find him."

 _I've never forgotten that it was you who sent him away,_ Zelda thought, the old anger rising in her. When she awoke from her sleeping spell, her father had changed- he'd become so paranoid. He sent Link away because he thought Link was the danger, that he somehow _attracted_ danger to him. She was sure this was what he thought. Zelda calmed herself- her father was offering to send a ship to retrieve Link. She should be grateful- or at least act it.

"In your letter to him, ask for his coordinates. That way we can send for one as soon as possible."

"I've already send out my response, Father."

"I don't understand. Why not just send another? How did you receive word from him at all, come to think of it? If he could send word why couldn't he just come home?"

"It was… a magic bird, Father."

"Ah. I see. Well, Link has always been lucky in his friends."

"Yes, Father."

Harkinian turned back to the maps sprawled out on the table, raising his lantern over them once more. Zelda once asked why he refused to use a better lit room for military strategy. "Darkness in war, darkness in its conception," was his answer.

"Keretia and Ertruian to the west, Jadeth to the south," he muttered to himself. "Beyond that, the cursed desert kingdoms." He said it with almost a snarl. Then eyed Zelda. "Link started his journey here," he pointed, "North, through Sosaria, then sailing to Naropa, Myteria and Entymion- due to dock at New Kasuto village his trajectory as such," he turned to her, "Whereabouts do you think Koholint is?"

Zelda studied the map. After a moment, "Here," she said. "Not terribly far, because the Kasuto villagers could see the storm that he was caught in. Although, storms can be massive, shadow half the horizon." She moved her finger farther east. "Here."

Harkinian studied his daughter for a long time. Finally: "You must know, Daughter- and I know I've said it a thousand times- you must know, I am no king. I'm not your mother's heir, you are. I'm not from here. I am a prince of Catalia, who traveled here, and saw your mother and fell in love. That is all I am. In other kingdoms, that would make me king, but here it does not. Hyrule is the land where the power of the gods is said to slumber- or, more rightly, the Goddesses- and they have chosen to carry the kingdom's ruling line through its daughters."

Zelda knew this well. Deep into Hyrule's history, at first it seemed mere chance, that a daughter would inherit the throne- not a son like all the other kingdoms. All the sons would die, or better yet, only girls were born to the royal family, such that the closest male contender for the throne would be a fourth cousin and a known conspirator with an enemy. Some strange occurrence, every generation- until it just became law, that a daughter was allowed to take the throne if born first. And the firstborn, without fail, was always a daughter.

"I knew I would never truly be king," Zelda's father said. "And I didn't care. But almost your whole life, I've had to be King Regent and it's made our land weak. Our neighbors fly around us like vultures. You turn eighteen this summer, ten months from now. You were born during the waning crescent of the Thunder moon, at the height of summer. Moonrise, that same night, this summer, you will take the throne. Hyrule will have its Queen once again- the woman made to rule it. You can restore prosperity to Hyrule."

Zelda studied his face, and he started to look young again, in a way that he hadn't in years. He pointed at the border that Hyrule shared with Keretia, to the west.

"I've been thinking," he said, "The ambassadors from Sosaria should be arriving any day now. I'm sending them directly to the border, where the Keretian mountain clans have been raiding our villages. The city of Kurumet is not far over the Keretian border, and they will be able to negotiate with the diplomats there. I'm sending you with them."

"Father! The Keretians _hate women…_ "

"The world hates women, Daughter. But you are greater than the world. The fate of Hyrule depends on you finding your greatness. Go."

* * *

Cold morning air blew in from the balcony as Zelda rose from her bed to shut the door tight. Warm summer evening breeze had turned to autumn gusts overnight. Something, though- like a lost piece of a dream- compelled her to open the door and step out. It was that beautiful pre-dawn blue, that moment of utter stillness before the sun finally rose over the horizon.

Zelda cast her gaze out over the land, covered in glistening dew. She breathed it in: that windless air, that perfect afterdark air, so full of dew that it was fog when she exhaled it. The fog would soon burn away, but in this moment, in this fleeting moment, all was perfect.

As the mist rose, she could see movement in the distance. Not her Link, she knew immediately. Riders, though. Three, maybe four of them. She drew in a breath, watching them- one more moment- and turned away, gathered her robes around her against the cold. A moth fluttered in with her, flopped fitfully around the candleflames. Handmaidens were coming in to stoke the fire, brush her hair.

She had been wanting this: to leave the castle, to have adventure again- most of all, to be trusted. But without Link, the victory felt hollow. She hadn't really imagined doing it alone- the thought never occurred to her that, when her leadership was called for, he wouldn't be by her side. Part of his training abroad, after all, was to lead her armies.

She knew she should be grateful. She only felt foreboding.

North Castle had no town to gaze upon from a hilltop- without a townsfolk, no one to celebrate the harvest. Zelda couldn't watch the moon wax to full, however, without at least making the husk doll. On her ride with the maids and the guards, she passed a farm with a corn field, fathered dry, dead husks off the stalks of fat corn; at a stone bridge, she dropped behind, found two shining back river pebbles before anyone turned to look at her. Then she rode to catch up, as though nothing had happened. The maids' giggling at her corn husks was enough, after all. She wondered if her maids missed the harvest circlets, the dancing around the bonfires, the feast- kissing lads under the Harvest Trellis. North Castle was a lonely place.

When she returned in the evening, Zelda found her father in the nearly empty Great Hall pouring wine for four strangers, dressed in Sosarian black. She approached, hiding her dismay with a polite smile.

"Father, I thought you were saving this wine," she said out of the guests' earshot. It was Solstice wine, meant for the dark of the year.

"I was saving it, Zelda, for your last night here," was her father's response. "This cup is for you. I share this with our ambassador and guest, Prince Darius." Harkinian handed her her cup, and raised his silently. Zelda turned with a sharp look to this Darius, addressed as Prince. She had met all three sons of Sosaria. This title was strange. A look from her father, though, reminded her she'd forgotten her manners. She lifted her cup without a word. Sosarian toasts were always silent- a strange, unlucky custom, Zelda always thought. In lieu of words, Sosarians never broke eye-contact until the first swallow of drink. Zelda raised her cup to the prince, meeting his eye, and took the opportunity to search his soul in his gaze.

* * *

Late into the night, Zelda lay in bed, waiting. The full moon shot stark beams of light through the cracks in the casement, in the balcony doors. The princess got up, finally, threw open the balcony doors. Wind gusted in with old summer warmth. Finishing the business she started earlier, Zelda brought her gatherings from the fields out into the moonlight. She spread the corn husks and pebbles around her and went to work.

The doll that resulted did not even span her palm. The tiny black pebbles were saucers for eyes. Zelda tore a piece of the inner hem of her riding gown that she wore earlier- it served as a red dress for the little doll. Made in moonlight, as the oldest spells insisted. The dolls were meant to be burnt upon their maker being kissed under the harvest trellis- an archway of hemlock branches- thrown into the fire once they served their purpose in drawing a new love to the maker, to keep the cold of winter at bay. Zelda had thought that Link would be back by now, hoped… what a dismal hope, to be sure. Ah well, this doll would have to serve a different purpose, a mystery for now. She kissed the doll, instead, and put it in her pocket.

Zelda slept, and dreamed she was back in the Great Hall, seated around one side of the long table with her father and the four ambassadors, as they had been in waking life. Only this time, as she looked at their faces, she saw symbols on their foreheads. Her father had a cross whose arms reached out in equal measure. Darius had a four-petaled flower- a symbol of the rose- black, lined with white. The prince caught her staring at him, and held up a hand mirror. She gazed in the mirror, and saw eyes, all across her face: heavy-lidded, bright and open, old, young, never paired properly, planted on her face at all angles, staring in all directions. Until in one second they all turned to stare at her in the mirror. She gasped and woke up. She stared long at the shadowed beams above her.

A dark thing caught Zelda's eye, out the window- a flash of starlight. For a moment, its wings batted against the moon. It let out a strange but familiar squak.

"Bird!" It flew into her room, fluttered around noisily for a few moments, then perched on her bedpost. Zelda sat up, offered a breadcrust she'd been saving. Hands trembled as she unfurled the scroll- growing cold as she read the news.

 _Zelda,_

 _It grieves me to write this: I cannot yet leave this island. An enchantment holds Koholint in its grasp- all I know is I must somehow find eight forgotten instruments and awaken a mysterious creature, the Windfish, in order to leave. I do not know how long such a task will take._

 _I've explored the village of Mabe and much of the coast. Now it is time to go into the woods._

 _Longing for Hyrule burns in my very bones._

 _I remain yours,_

 _Link_

A dismal hope, indeed.


	5. How Our Hearts Live and Die

_Chapter Five_

 ** _How Our Hearts Live and Die_**

"The trees will speak to us, if we're properly silent-" and she tossed him an apple- her hair shimmered in the dappled sunlight. The air was fragrant with the sweet rot of fallen fruit. He had no answer for her, because that smirk of hers took the breath out of him. She was closing her eyes so she could listen. The air grew still. He watched her breathe in deep- then closed his eyes so she wouldn't catch him staring at her. All fell silent.

Then he remembered: _No, they'll attack her, they'll smear poison across her lips, they'll make her sleep for endless days-_

"Aaagh! Link, help!"

Link woke from the dream, a cold, clammy sweat overtaking his body.

"Zelda…" He whispered into the woods. But it was dark and over two years since that bright afternoon when Ganon's minions attacked Zelda a second time, sending her into a deep, dreamless sleep that would last almost a year.

 _Zelda's awake now, and she's safe,_ Link told himself, the night air taking on an unexpected chill. How long had he been in the jungles of this island now, these woods tangled with vines and strange trees- battling tektites and gopongas? Summer must be long gone in Hyrule now, though here it seemed to linger forever. He looked around him, at the moonlit jungle. Monsters sleeping in every shadow, likely. Every once in a while, in Hyrule, Link in his travels would discover a plot of land deep in the woods, tended by some brave farmer. _Now that's courage,_ Link always thought. To wander theland, to have no home in a dangerous world, that was one thing. But to build a home and have a family, when everything you've spent your life building could be destroyed in a second…

Link had a home, once. He'd had a mother and father. He lost them, ages and ages ago. Perhaps that was why, at twelve years old, he'd been able to face so many dangers and kill Ganon. He'd had nothing left to lose.

He took a deep breath, let dark memories fade away. The jungle was thick with the noise of nightcritters. Link let their song lull him back to sleep. Soon- he could feel it- he'd find his first Nightmare.

 _Moldorm,_ its name was, and it screeched like a nightmare, biting through Link's mind in a brilliant flash of agony. The serpent-like creature twisted and slithered through the dungeon chamber with terrifying speed. Link struck at it, letting out his own screams as he did. He bore down on the moldorm with his sword, hacking off segments of its body. It screeched again and glided even faster, circling and circling in a dizzying frenzy, baring its fangs in rage, its flame-colored eyes rolling back behind its eyelids. It coiled, readied itself to strike.

But Link was quicker. He dodged, and as the moldorm sped past, he raised his sword and bore down on its head, crushing its skull with a sickening _crunch._ The moldorm didn't have time to shriek again- but its huge head cracked the stone floor where it fell.

Silence echoed as the dust settled and Link waited, sword ready, not knowing what to expect. Suddenly a burst of light erupted from the center of the room, spinning and twirling. His prize appeared in that light, rotating in air: the Full Moon Cello.

Link tilted his head a little, staring at it. _I have to drag a cello all the way back to Mabe?_

It was afternoon the next day when Link finally arrived at Marin's house. The cello was more awkward than heavy but his shoulder ached from carrying it. No serious injuries from the Nightmare though. He was grateful. Marin spotted him from the garden.

"Brought home a friend, did we?" Her eyes glittered with mischief. "Is that how you killed the monster? By playing it a lullaby?"

He should have been more annoyed but the sound of her laughter lifted his spirits. "Let me see that thing," and she took it firmly from his grasp; he didn't fight her for it. Her smile fell just a touch when she ran her fingers gently over the body. She hid it quickly though, and looked back up at him.

"Smells nice," She said, her wry smile returning. "Don't worry, I'll find room for your guest."

He followed her into the house. She hoisted the cello onto her shoulder and held it there as she climbed the ladder to the loft- one-handed- with ease. He watched her gently lay it in the corner- there was a reverent grace in how she lowered it. Then she climbed down the ladder in two steps, landing in front of Link.

"You should rest," She said, looking him over. "You look like you need it. But then you should join us. Tonight. The Moon Festival. The brightest full moon of the year. It begins at sundown."

Festivities were the last thing on Link's mind, but exhaustion kept him from answering. He walked down the path to a spring. Hidden from view by tall ferns, he soaked gratefully in the steaming water. It smelled gently of sulphur and sea.

Having bathed and let the hot waters loosen his knots, Link donned his old green tunic- now washed and mended- and headed back to the house. He climbed the ladder to the loft (as soon as he realized he'd taken over Marin's room when he was rescued, he insisted on sleeping among the potatoes and onions in the loft) and collapsed on his makeshift pallet-bed.

* * *

Link awoke to the sounds of shouting in the distance. He sat up immediately, heart racing. The sweet dreams he'd been having leaped from his memory. He listened for more signs of trouble- but the shouts were ones of laughter. He had forgotten the Moon Festival. It was dark outside. The festivities had already begun.

Link cursed his curiosity- he really did need rest- but made his slow way to the village square, where a thousand lanterns had been strung between the roofs of houses. Candles floated in the fountain and huge altars to the Golden Goddesses and to the Windfish had been erected, with enormous offerings of fragrant fruits and charred fish displayed among hundreds of candles whose wax dripped forming stalactites along the edges of the stone base. Exotic flowers decorated the ground around them, so thick in number it was hard to approach. A few hundred people must have been dancing in the square, to strange tunes with thundering rhythms. Link didn't even know there were a hundred people on the whole island. And they danced as though they might not be alive tomorrow.

A shadow flitted across Link's soul as he watched the couples dance. Wherever he went, no matter where he was, it was always the celebrations that made Link feel most like an outsider. Even at the palace, with Zelda- maybe especially at the palace- he'd never felt comfortable. He never felt, he realized, that there was anything worth celebrating. Why come together, like this, when the land was still rife with danger, when monsters could yet again destroy everything you've worked for, when home and safety and even life were always teetering on the edge of destruction? Link knew that not everyone felt as he did. He envied the confidence that some had, that everything was going to turn out fine. He himself never took anything for granted. He was an orphan, with no place in the world. His experience was not that of home and family and life-building- it was that of freedom and emptiness, and that of vast landscapes unfurling before him, everything and nothing belonging to him.

It meant that, even amidst the beauty of the dancing and celebration, Link could not join in. The harvest could still be destroyed, even as the goddesses were being thanked.

The music died down and there was rumbling as the crowd shifted, filling in the dance space and turning toward the musicians, who, except for the drummers, were quickly abandoning their posts. The village bell struck midnight, and the shouting began: "The Goddess Dance! The Goddess Dance!" They chanted and stomped their feet, stomping faster and faster, until all noise was blotted out except that of foot against ground; sounded so much like thunder, Link couldn't help but glance at the sky, expecting thunderclouds. But the night was clear and the moon was high, as large and bright as Link had ever seen.

The crowd rumbled and swayed to the stomping of their feet, becoming one creature, their collective force the likes of a dragon: coiled and dangerous. Anything could happen, and Link could feel the possibilities unfold, as though everything were being made entirely new, as though everyone was rebirthing themselves into a new year, a new power. He was compelled to join them even as he felt separate from them, from this creature that rumbled and vibrated the ground, reminding the earth underneath that up above, life still danced under the stars.

"The Goddess Dance! The Goddess Dance!" The shouting continued on, then suddenly cheering erupted all around Link. Three women had appeared, each wearing elaborate gold masks and ornate costumes with lace, beads, tassels, wide belts with intricate metalwork, arm bands and rings embedded with dark stones. Each held a wide frame drum marked with symbols Link did not understand.

The three waited for the crowd to die down. Then they started on the drums; quietly, at first. Whisperings of the hands. Strange counter-rhythms beckoning to the hidden corners of the soul.

And as the waves of sound slowly built, it felt as though they had always been: an ever-present heart-beat, existing beyond the cares of mere mortals, sounding out the drama of the unfolding of the cosmos, and yet free of it.

Something unworldly awakened in Link- a longing that left his throat dry, that overpowered him in a way that only the ocean, which held his life in its hands, ever had.

And the crowd danced- oh, the crowd danced! Furious, sweat-soaked, possessed. But Link was still as stone under the spell of the drums. He could only stare at the blur that the hands of the drummers had become. Until he realized that one of the drummers had raised her eyes to him. She held his gaze, continuing in perfect rhythm, the torchlight casting flickering shadows on her mask.

"Marin…" He realized in a whisper.

It couldn't be her. Yet… could it?

The three beat out furious rhythms, faster and faster, and all the dancers twirled and twirled until they were nearly a blur. Then suddenly at the height of the drama, the drummers stopped, leaving only their percussive echo. They were as still as statues, as though turned so for being too perfect, a hand each raised high in the air to deliver the final beat that never came. The audience cheered and cheered- their praise seemed to echo long into the night.

Link backed deeper and deeper into the crowd, backed and backed away until he was out of it, pulled away not by his own will, but by that of the wind, the night, the cold, the sea. Koholint. He was a plaything of this island, a plaything of the universe.

* * *

How he found his way back to his bed, he didn't know. Morning dawned as quiet and pale and full of sea-hiss as ever. The full moon cello and its bow leaned gently in the corner of the loft. Shafts of sunlight faded and grew with the movement of the clouds. Afternoon would arrive soon. Link rose from his bed. The beach waited to be littered with his thoughts.

This shore faced west. It faced Hyrule, though Hyrule was far beyond sight. And it faced Zelda. Somewhere, on the other side of these waters, the princess waited for him. Even as he battled for his right to leave this island, nothing outside of it felt real anymore… his memories, even.. of other lands… of Hyrule…

Zelda felt real. Zelda was out there, and his mind fixed on her like that one golden ray of sun that a darkened sky allowed. She was what reminded him that everything before wasn't a dream. What was this island doing to him?

Marin stood farther down the shore: after last night, the last person he wanted to see. The eyes of the drummer came back to him, wild and dark in the shadows of the mask. It unnerved him, that she could do what she did last night, that her hands could make such thunder. She turned, caught sight of him, and headed his way.

"Well, well," her smooth, taunting voice carried over the soft waves on the shore. "Chose your pillow over our celebrations? Tut tut- our finest festival of the year. Although I'm impressed that you could sleep through such ruckus."

She took has arm and they started to walk. The contact made his stomach do a weird little flip.

"You saw me, you know very well," Link was too tired and at the same time too alarmed to be amused.

Marin gave him an uncomprehending look. "I did?"

At her acting, Link had to smile. "When you were drumming onstage. I caught your eye." He hoped he said it nonchalantly enough to throw her off-guard. It didn't.

"What? Oh- the Goddess Dance?" She threw her head back and laughed heartily. "I'll take your compliment though. Marin, daughter of Tarin: Goddess Drummer!"

A soft noise behind them alerted Link of another presence. The slow, heavy step was too familiar. Link turned, pulling Marin in the same motion to safety behind him and drawing his sword. An Octorok thumped slowly towards them. It made a strange gutteral sound Link had never heard before. In another second, though, Marin pulled at him. "No, Link!"

"What? Marin, get away!" But she wriggled to free herself from his grasp, reaching for his sword arm.

"No- he's my friend-"

In his moment of surprise, Marin was able to knock his sword to the sand. The Octorok came no closer, only continued making the noises. It seemed to look longingly at Marin. Link turned to her, astonished. She let out a nervous laugh.

"I teach him singing..."

The Octorok seemed to know the word, for it bounced gelatinously and began the noise again- which, now that Link thought about it, sounded like it could be an attempt at humming. Link turned back to Marin.

"You teach _a monster_ to sing?"

Marin shrugged. "Several, actually." Then she finally wrested free of Link and turned to the Octorok, hands on her hips.

"You know what I said about coming this close to the village!" She scolded. "It's not safe! Now go home!" And she pointed farther down the shore.

The Octorok looked at her mournfully as it passed them to go home. She sighed, and said, "I'll come see you and the others tonight. I'll bring the lyre."

Link could have sworn the Octorok visibly looked happier, the bounce returning to its step as it made its way home.

Finally, Link turned back to Marin.

"You can't understand how much danger-"

"Monsters have hearts too, Link." She glared at him. He glared back, but couldn't hold her gaze. She didn't understand...

But maybe he didn't, either.

He picked up his sword, wiped the dust off with the hem of his tunic, and sheathed it. He offered his arm to Marin. She sighed, and took it. They walked on for a while in silence. Link tried to put ill thoughts from his head. He'd been fighting monsters all his life... and this girl befriends one? _Several?_ Unbidden, the Moblins that attacked Zelda in the orchard came to his mind's vision. He grimaced as he tried to push the image away.

Taking a deep breath, trying to return to the present, Link asked: "What is the significance of that dance?"

"What dance?" Marin looked up at him, as far away, apparently, as he was.

"The Goddess Dance. From last night."

"Oh! They drum to wake the WindFish."

"Then why is it called the Goddess Dance?"

"Because the Goddesses rule all, but the Windfish is the God of this island. There is a temple to the Windfish, where the Egg lay in which he sleeps, and there is a Temple of the Goddesses, hidden in the rainforests. The eight instruments, as you learned, are needed to awaken the Windfish, but it is said only one with the favor of the Goddesses has the power to do so."

"So everyone dances… to win the Goddesses' favor?"

"Precisely." And her dazzling smile returned. "Too bad you slept all night, or you could have curried favor with the Goddesses…" She let go of his arm, twirled around once and kicked up sand as she did so. When she looked back at him, though, the smile died.

"Your thoughts are… elsewhere." She seemed to sense his thoughts in his gaze. He didn't like it. He looked back out to the shore. Westward. Toward Hyrule.

"I leave again tomorrow, to find the second instrument."

Marin nodded thoughtfully, followed his gaze out to the hazy western horizon.

"This girl you wrote to. The princess. You love her, don't you?"

Link let the words hang in the air a long time before he finally turned to her, saw the pain she tried to hide.

"Yes, I love her."

Marin nodded again, and turned back to the ocean. They stood there in silence for a while, listening to the waves crash upon the shore. Finally, Marin spoke up.

"You should tell her how you feel."

"How do you know I haven't?" It annoyed him that she could read him so plainly. She gave him a look that told him she knew this, too.

"Why haven't you told her?"

"It's not as easy as all that," Link muttered, bitterness rising in him.

"No," Marin said, her words halting and angry. "It never is. But not telling isn't better. Not when death is always as close as a whisper in your ear." She balled her hands into fists at her sides, glared out at the ocean.

"I adore you, Link." She took a deep breath, then turned to face him. "There, I said it."

Link stared at her, dumbfounded. His mouth hung open like an idiot. He shut it, and swallowed hard. His heart was beating unnaturally fast. He tried to speak but no words came out.

"No need to speak, Link, I know you don't return my feelings. But look- I'm still alive, right?" She said the words with a sardonic smile.

"It _was_ you, who drummed the Goddess Dance, wasn't it?" He didn't mean to say it, it just came out of him unbidden. He couldn't stop thinking about those eyes that met his as the drums raged. She answered him with a withering look.

"Tell her. Tell her how you feel, and as soon as you can. You will regret it forever, if you don't." She turned away, headed up the gently sloping path towards the house.

Link turned back to the ocean.

Zelda was at the center of a world entirely different from his, and her duties to that world were important and endless. Peace lived or died by those duties. To watch her from the outside was a lonely office. It was his office. He had no right to tell her how he felt. What if she didn't return his feelings? Or worse- what if she did? To love him, when he still had so little to offer her, still had so much to prove: a condemnation, a curse. His life's only ambition was to serve her- and in so doing, one day, perhaps, become worthy of her hand. No glory, no honor, no power was worth anything, if he couldn't have the woman he loved.

But now things were different. What if he never got off this island? What would happen to his soul, if he never told her how he felt?

Though Link didn't know it, it would be another two months before Bird arrived with a letter from Zelda. He would have defeated the Genie of Bottle Grotto by then and attained the Conch Horn, the second instrument. By the time Zelda's letter came, there would only be more complications.

 _Dearest Link,_

 _I must burden you and our dear Bird with terrible news. I was sent with the ambassadors from Sosaria to the Keretian border where our villages were being raided by Keretian mountain clans. But we arrived too late: they were burned down, the three of them._

 _We do not know who did it. We are on the brink of war with an undetermined enemy. Keretia denies blame, and there are no surviving witnesses._

 _Over a hundred villagers have banded together and are living up in the mountains. We- the ambassadors and I- are among them, searching for answers- and a way to protect these villagers from another attack. Even if Keretia is innocent, they are still an enemy, and can take advantage._

 _The nightmares that these burnings have brought me- they are endless. This needs to end. We need strength, we need the compassion of the Goddesses, we need the power of the Triforce- but most of all we need you, Link. You who are our guardian, who keeps us from the brink of destruction. Hyrule's fate lies with you._

 _Yours,_

 _In the name of the Three,_

 _Zelda_

* * *

Author's Notes:

The first named drummer in history was a Mesopotamian priestess named Lipushiau, from 2380 B.C. She played on a frame drum, and my scene of the Goddess Drummers is a tribute to her. I encourage anyone interested in drumming to read Layne Redmond's _When the Drummers Were Women_ for more insight. There is also an excellent article by her, under the same title, on _Drum Magazine'_ s website. Other than that, thank-you to everyone who has read thus far and reviews and constructive criticism are highly welcome!

 _-Laurie_


	6. What Secrets Might the Mountains Hold

Chapter Six

 **What Secrets Might the Mountains Hold**

* * *

Kakariko still burned, even after two weeks. Smoke filled the valley and turned the sky the color of blood for three days before fading to a haunted gray with no sign of sun. The winter rains should have come a month ago. Instead, the village continued to burn and the fire spread into the woods, climbing slowly up the far mountain.

Zelda watched through the trees from a hide-out on the other side of the valley. She, her entourage, and the villagers from Kakariko set up a makeshift village-camp in the mountains, a place to wait out the fires. The village, however, couldn't be salvaged before the snows came, of that they were certain. The villagers had to decide to either hold up in the mountains for the winter or disperse to other, more promising places.

Six dark figures. Maybe seven. That was all anyone saw. Man or monster, none could say. But that's all it took to burn a village down. Zelda wondered if fire magick was used. She couldn't investigate until the fires died. Darius took accusations and threats across the border to Keretia but with no proof or even evidence, they received only mock-sympathy and oily smiles.

At least the warm autumn meant there was time to build shelters in the woods. Messengers were dispatched to Saria and North Castle: supplies would be on their way soon. Zelda was surprised at how many wanted to stay and rebuild the village. An attack could happen again at any moment. The only thing keeping the villagers safe was their hidden location. Zelda was impressed at how well this chain of mountains could hide a few hundred people.

They weren't true mountains. There were no snow-capped peaks except one off in the distance. They were steep hills, covered in forest- mountains only in that they reached up out of the earth to make shallow points against the horizon. The winter snows, according to the villagers, rarely made it to the valley floor- but the rains were cold and icy and lasted all winter. If only they would begin.

Zelda had been too busy to despair. The villagers needed her, to mend boots, to mind children, and to walk among them, give them words of hope. But, oh, if she could be alone- if she could stare into the emptiness she felt… but no, she had to keep her spirits high, like a banner, raised for her people and flying in the wind. She wanted to cower away, but looking at these people, who had just lost everything, she couldn't. She banished the shadows from her eyes for their sake.

 _Oh, Link…_ his absence pressed in on her like a great weight, like the heat of the fires, suffocating. She was grateful for the cold winds. They reminded her to breathe.

Around her, wood was chopped, branches gathered to make huts. Water was carried from streams. Fur from rabbits and raccoons was being turned into caps for winter. And food brought generously from the few surviving farms was being rationed out. Zelda, watching these comings and goings, made up her mind, and went to find Darius.

"Come hunt the stag with me," She said by way of greeting when she found him.

"It's dangerous, Princess. The attackers could still be out there."

"Arrows can kill people as well as deer, last I heard."

"Why must you do it, though?"

It was more than she wanted to explain to him: that one of the few traditions her father maintained at North Castle was the Solstice Hunt, that one of the last memories of her mother smiling was in greeting as she and her father returned from such a one, fifteen years ago. Her mother, in rare form, cheeks aglow from the adventure, the several days out riding- the fanfare, the visiting family- cousins who were like sisters- at three years old, Zelda thought she was seeing three of her mother. All riding out with banners and trumpets. It's a wonder they killed anything, such was the noise. This would not be like that, but…

"The Solstice is a day of power. What is done on the Solstice echoes throughout the coming year."

Darius studied her carefully. "I can't imagine your ambitions are diminished by the timing of a thing. Why should they be enhanced, then?"

"Is destiny not ruled by timing? They are the same god, I thought." Zelda ached, thinking of the storm that shipwrecked Link.

Darius gave a small nod, after a moment.

"I'll go with you. Shall we assemble a party?"

"No. Deer are rare in these woods. Thinned out by moblins a decade ago, when the monsters couldn't find people to eat. The others will consider it a waste of time."

"Which is why you asked me. And I was beginning to hope you enjoyed my company."

Zelda did not know how to reply, even though he said it in jest- he bowed and dismissed himself before she could recover.

"At dawn, then."

Zelda had tried to learn as much as she could about Darius from her father's dialog with him, the night he and his men-at-arms arrived. But all they had talked was strategy and Sosarian and Hyrulean dealings with Keretia. It was only later, asking her father in private, that she learned Darius was indeed a prince of Sosaria, the fourth son of the king and queen.

"Why have I never met him?"

"It is a point of great delicacy, Zelda," her father said gently. "Best not to speak of it."

So, of course, on the first morning of their journey, Zelda guided her horse next to his and asked, "Why is it I've never met or heard of you, if you are indeed a prince of Sosaria?"

"I met you, once." And he pulled his horse ahead. His expression had been unreadable.

Later, she started, "If I've given offense by not remembering-"

"Not at all," He said, and bowed, and turned away.

She seemed to fight for words, talking to him. He would only speak of Keretia with her.

At dawn, they set out on foot, heading north away from the smoldering valley where Kakariko burned.

"I did not know you observed days of power," Darius said. He was offering her a bridge. Perhaps he had had an opinion about her, and it finally changed.

She thought about the Harvest Moon, and the doll that was in her pocket that very moment.

"The year turns like a wheel, repeating itself over and over. It is this turning that helps us rebuild, even after disaster." She thought of Kakariko, burning on the other side of the mountain. She thought of Link, always wary yet envious of the common folk, who had such trust in life, that they could build home and family with no promises against desolation. He lived to serve them, perhaps because he could never be one of them. "It is the turning and re-turning of the wheel that tells us, what we lost may yet come back to us." She thought of her mother's bones, somewhere in the river, waiting to dance with flesh on them once more. The memory of her face aglow in the sunlight, waiting to be real again.

"That time is so steady," Zelda continued, "Implies a natural order. In this order, there is power, waiting to be harnessed."

"I've heard that the princess of Hyrule can create spheres of light with her hands. Is this such a power?"

It was Zelda's turn to answer with silence. Darius regarded her with a thoughtful gaze, a touch of a smile on his lips.

The rest of the morning was traversed with only a few quiet words to break up the silence. They found tracks as the sun reached its low winter apex in the sky, and spent the rest of the day following them. The tracks wound their way up the mountain and started down the other side. A light frost covered the ground up here, and the deer's tracks were fresh in the white dust that had chilled the mud solid. The two almost lost their hunt at a creek that grew wide for a ways- but after finding stones that could bear them safely across, Darius found the tracks again, farther upstream. The tracks were following a wide circle back around the mountain, but dipped first into an open field that sloped steeply down. As Zelda and Darius stepped out into the field, a breathtaking view of the mountains opened up before them. Below, they could see a narrow valley, a creek running through the center, and a stone's throw of open grass on both sides. And on either side of the valley, the mountains rose up fast and steep. Like the others, these mountains were not tall- no great peaks of stone broke through. But they were nestled in close together, knit tight like ragged stitches made by an old widow with gnarled hands. Off in the distance, the chain of mountains continued, smoothing out and rolling on forever, turning into a cool, faded blue on the far horizon.

Zelda and Darius took a moment to breathe it all in, the cold wind hitting them afresh out in the open field. They wandered for a while among the tall grasses.

"The tracks bend back into the woods over here," Darius said after a while. "Shall we continue?"

Zelda nodded, still staring off at the mountains. Movement caught her eye, on the next mountain over, to the northwest. Zelda looked closer, squinting her eyes against the cold.

"What is that…" She said under her breath. Darius heard her, and turned to see.

"Smoke," He said, and it was. A thin, narrow strip of smoke rising into the air and tilting slightly with the wind.

"Chimney smoke," Zelda agreed, and squinted harder. Something about it was different, though.

"The color…" She looked to Darius, already knowing in her heart what it was.

"Yes," He said, his face grim. "The sign of the Witch."


	7. The Woods, The Smoke, The King of Stags

Chapter Seven

 **The Woods, The Smoke, The King of Stags**

* * *

Zelda watched the Witch's smoke carefully, its dark red undertone making her certain of its nature. They say a Witch could burn blood, that's where the color of her smoke came from. A Witch was a tricky creature. Never seen unless wanting to be seen- and the seer might as well be cursed, unless he answers the beckoning, and seeks her out. A Witch could have a gift or a piece of advice- but those gifts could be given for evil or for good, and always, a price was attached.

Once back under cover of the trees, Zelda and Darius quickly lost the trail they had been following. They spread out to search, keeping in sight of each other. _A Witch… here in these woods…_

Could she have had something to do with the burnings? Witches weren't usually so aggressive. A sense of heaviness suddenly settled around Zelda. _If Link were here…_ she could feel herself dropping into that place where she missed Link so much she could taste it. She could feel his presence rise like a ghost all around her, filling her chest with breath and her mind with forgotten song. All the days they had walked together on paths not so different from these, came back and supplied her imagination: what he would say, what he would do, how it would feel when their arms brushed against each other gently.

But he was not here- and the cold silence of the woods insisted she remember that. So her thoughts, her imaginings, drifted down a different path.

 _Link. Dearest Link._

 _You and I are both children of the summer, if our lost mothers told it true. But winter's deep cares suit us better. You understand why I hunt the stag, the white-tailed deer of these quiet mountains. Have you journeyed here before? To these remote border villages: one impressive windmill between the three of them? One common plot for all the burials._

She was composing a letter to him in her mind, as she had begun doing when she could no longer convince herself he was near. It was becoming a habit, as she counted the days since she sent out her last letter to him. Her heart stretched thin over those days.

 _The villagers here are calm, even as their homes are still burning. Hyruleans everywhere seem to have infinite patience, didn't you tell me once? Ever cooperative, ever cheerful. During the day they build huts, set traps, mend wounds… at night, the discontent surfaces, as the men stay up late around campfires, talking out of earshot of their wives, of the Keretian mountain clans who raid their barns, steal their goats, and now this…_

Zelda took a deep breath, seemed to see around her for the first time in a while. Darius was walking a parallel path, a stone's throw away. They were looking for the tracks, she had nearly forgotten… had she seen anything? Would she have noticed, if she did?

She resolved to focus, but kept seeing in her mind's eye the men around the campfire outside her tent last night, speaking in low voices… the men of these villages expressed deference in a way, calling her "m'lady," bowing their heads as she passed- she wasn't even sure if they knew she was their princess. Which did not matter. But she was given no hint of their thoughts or plans.

The natural leader of the men of these villages was Error, a smith from Mirat, just north of Kakariko and out of view from this hideout, except for its smoke. He led several expeditions to find villagers hiding in the woods, to recover food, tools, building materials from the outskirts of the villages, venturing as close to the fires as one could dare, and even, most recently, journeyed to a secret lookout the village men had long used to spy on Keretian villages over the border. Zelda gathered that trek was an especially dangerous one. She wasn't told why, but she had some ideas.

 _If only you were here, Link… the men would trust you quickly, you would learn their plans, and keep them from doing anything rash, like starting a war…_

The villagers wouldn't see it as starting a whole war, but times were more tense than perhaps even they knew.

Zelda glanced over at Darius. He caught her eye and walked toward her.

"You look lost in thought, Princess. Are you even looking for our hunt?"

"I- I-" She stammered, a blush creeping up her face.

"Don't worry- I'm as guilty as you. Shall we backtrack once more?"

Zelda nodded, and they made their way back to where they had lost the trail. She scolded herself: Link would never have lost the tracks. He could probably track a deer by scent, then simply lure it with his whistle or ocarina or any number of magical instruments.

"So then what occupies _your_ thoughts, Prince Darius?"

The prince raised an eyebrow at her continuing formality, but said only, "The same thing as you, I imagine."

The blush returned to her face. She was pretty sure a certain green-clad hero was not on the prince's mind. She thought quickly.

"The Witch."

The prince nodded. "You are greatly troubled by her?"

Zelda didn't answer that. "Whom do you think she beckons?"

The prince met her gaze with heavy certainty.

"We both know it is not me she expects."

Zelda opened her mouth to respond but could not disagree. But how did he _know…_

Again, they fell into uneasy silence. The signature of their acquaintanceship. She glanced sidelong at him, took a breath, and broke this habit of theirs.

"Do you know anything about the trek Error and his men took to the lookout point? I loathe to confess I know nothing."

The prince shook his head. "Nor I. They don't trust us, Princess. We're outsiders."

"Do you think they're planning a retaliation?"

"I don't know. Resources are stretched thin but anger is not."

"Do you think _you_ can gain their trust?"

The prince gave her a look. "Why do you think I agreed to go on this hunt with you? A rare kill of big game will gain me their respect, if not yet their trust."

Zelda blinked. "And here I thought you were beginning to enjoy my company."

The prince laughed self-consciously at that, ran a hand through thick black hair. He hesitated.

"Call me Darius, please. Just Darius."

"Why?" Zelda couldn't hide a sardonic smile. "My father insists you are a Prince of Sosaria."

"That I am- but on your land, Princess."

"Fair enough." Zelda said, and finally realized what she was looking at on the path ahead of her. "Look here," and her voice dropped though the tracks were cold. "These branches: disturbed. And hoofprints. Very faint. The ground is much harder here- that's why we didn't see them before."

"Yes, the ground is harder," Darius said, "No tracker would have ever found these without doubling back twice."

Zelda rolled her eyes. "Because we are so present, with no cares weighing down our minds at all!"

"Peace, Princess." Darius grinned. "I was chiding myself as well."

She scowled at him but let it go, and they continued on in silence. Ahead, another set of tracks joined this one.

"An older male," Darius whispered. "And these tracks much more fresh. The one picked up the scent of the other."

"Following to spar?"

"It's late for fighting. Mating season is nearly over."

"The rain is late, too. And the frost," Zelda pointed out.

"A fair point. You found the tracks again. That means you get first shot." Zelda couldn't help but feel a thrill at those words.

They continued ahead, picking up the pace. The tracks split for a while, Darius followed the meandering buck's, Zelda the hart's. Then they heard it: echoing through the trees, the clash of antlers. The two raced forward as quickly as silence would allow, both arriving at the grassy knoll at about the same time, Zelda a stone's throw farther up the hill than Darius. She took a moment to get her breath back, aware that she had little time: she was upwind of them, and if the breeze picked up at all, they would spook. Silently, she reached for her bow and knocked an arrow on the string. She aimed.

The two stags reared up as they knocked at each other with their antlers, thrashing and twisting, tangling themselves together in a fierce knot- then breaking away and beginning again. Zelda could see the air from their nostrils billowing out in clouds as they snorted in effort.

She steadied her aim and let fly her arrow, straight into the heart of the older stag. He reared back, breaking away, and raced off into the woods. A second later, an arrow from Darius' bow hit the younger buck in the neck. Without even a grunt, the young buck slumped to the ground. Zelda and Darius both ran into the field, chasing the older buck. When they finally caught up with him, he lay on the frost-covered ground, panting heavily. He was huge up close, and even as he lay dying, regarded Zelda with what seemed like dignity. She fell to one knee before him- a dangerous thing to do, as a fallen buck could still lash out- but he merely looked at her, his breathing becoming more labored. Darius stood behind, his knife ready, but the stag didn't even look at him before his eyes rolled back and closed. His breathing stopped.

They reached the campgrounds before sunset. Darius had the buck around his shoulders and the hart they fastened to a long branch to carry between the two of them. The looks they got, the low whistles, made Zelda think Darius achieved what he was hoping to- and when Error came forward himself to relieve them of their burdens, calling the others along with him, Zelda was certain of it.

Crowds gathered around them but Darius seemed the hero, and Zelda, exhausted, let him. She slipped away, returned to her tent. The servant girls from North Castle were already asleep. She crawled onto the straw pallet with them, pulled the sleeping furs over herself, and fell immediately asleep, dreaming only of the sound of birdwings.


	8. How Our Hearts Live and Die Again

Chapter Eight

How Our Hearts Live And Die Again

Link was ten again, and before him lay the expanse that was Hyrule: sunlit fields, farms, rolling hills, the forest to the south. The castle in the distance, its surrounding village enclosed by a thick stone wall and a moat, a gate with a portcullis its only entrance. _There's no town surrounding North Castle,_ Link thought placidly, moving across the fields into the town like fog. North Castle, he knew, was surrounded by forests, and throughout the forests were hidden ruins, among which the trees had grown tall and dark. Link and Zelda had explored these ruins thoroughly: old stone foundations filled with rainwater; an old fountain, cracked in half. A temple, whose vaulted ceilings were only clues of their former selves, but whose lower walls with their window frames were nearly intact, missing only their stained glass stories. Link and Zelda had explored the Temple many a time, with its fallen roof and stone altar, thin trees sprouting up among crumbling pillars. Odd stones next to the Temple, with strange old markings. They seemed to want to speak, though of what, Link did not know.

Now, though, the water-filled foundations were two-story houses, the fountain a glittering, water-sprouting centerpiece around which a couple danced. Link continued through the cheerful town, to a path that was instantly familiar: North Castle loomed ahead, and though it seemed different, its architecture was unmistakable. It merely looked as though it had been stripped bare, back to its beginnings.

The changes, though Link was aware of them, did not concern him. His child's curiosity was drawn towards only one thing.

Guards were posted at intervals throughout the grounds around North Castle, but they were easy to sneak past, and young Link had no trouble finding a small grate to wriggle through to get into the castle. The gardens and vineyards, though they too had their share of guards, were easy to navigate.

On ahead, Link wandered, the sunlight brilliant, the birds and their songs cheerful. Finally, he came to a small inner courtyard, lined with rows of brightly colored blossoms. Someone was at the far end, spying into a window. The window looked into North Castle's throne room, some older part of the boy knew, but here, now, he didn't know anything, except...

Except that, when he approached, and the girl turned around, he knew he was looking into the face of his soul mate.

Link awoke in a cold sweat, breathing hard. _Zelda..._

He knew it had been Zelda, though the young girl's hair was impossibly blonde, almost white, and her eyes had been a dark blue, full of fear but still innocent, not yet exposed to the terrors of the world. The Zelda he knew was very different. And yet, this girl was Zelda. From another time, another place, perhaps...

Over the next several nights, another vision overwhelmed him. It was Zelda again, trapped in the deep recesses of North Castle. _"Please help me. I am a prisoner in the dungeon of the castle. My name is Zelda."_ It was a message she was sending to him in a dream. Zelda! Darker-haired, paler... and a dream-sorceress! Visions unfurled before him, a dark world that rumbled and held strange monsters, strange wonders... there was a wizard, but it was only a disguise, a façade...

Suddenly, he realized who the first Zelda had been looking at through the window into the throne room... who hid behind the façade of the wizard...

Ganon.

He and Zelda were soul mates. He was certain of this now. But if they were soul mates, there was another entangled with them, who would always be waiting for them, reaching out to strangle their spirits and the spirit of Hyrule.

Two months had passed since the Moon Festival. Winter solstice was near. Link had defeated the Genie of Bottle Grotto, and had continued without stopping, following the trail of clues that led to the hiding place of the next nightmare. Two nights ago he'd finally received Zelda's letter about how the villages bordering Keretia had been burned down, and how she was working with the ambassadors from Sosaria to regroup the villagers and rebuild the towns. How was that progressing? Link wondered. How much they'd been able to rebuild would depend entirely on how soon the winter rains came. Was she safe? Would the winter be harsh, up in Hyrule's western mountains?

One thing he knew for sure: Keretia was not behind the burning of those villages. Ganon was.

Link knew that the evil monster Ganon was dead. But he was still causing strife: through his minions, through the Triforce of Power, that he had somehow retained control over, even in death. The visions Link had been receiving confirmed it for him. He, Ganon, Zelda... their souls were linked to the Triforce, even beyond death, and into life again... and, they were linked to each other. The three of them were playing out an old tale, over and over. They've danced this dance before.

And they were doing it again. Ganon would not be so easily destroyed. He was still exerting his will, hiding in the shadows... and it was he who burned the villages of Western Hyrule. Link was certain of it.

Though he was hot on the trail to the third nightmare, Link decided to return to Marin's house, to borrow yet again her quill and parchment, and scribe a letter. He had to warn Zelda. And there was something else, too... something he'd been waiting to tell her for a long time.

When he arrived at Marin's house, no one was there. It was mid-morning; Tarin would no doubt be at sea, fishing, as he did every morning- but where was Marin? Sometimes she accompanied her father. Perhaps she was on the beach.

Link wandered all the usual places- the beach, the dock, the garden, the cuccoo coup- before giving up and entering the little house they called home.

"Marin?" He called out, walking through the kitchen and peeking into the little hallway where the bedrooms climbed the ladder to the loft and tossed his pack on his bed. The Full Moon Cello remained in its corner next to the bed, dust gathering along its curves. He went to it with a lover's hands, checking the horsehair of the bow, that the strings were tuned down, to prolong their life- that the long neck wasn't warped in any way, that the tuning pegs weren't stuck. He leaned in and inhaled the scent of wood and varnish. Link knew that when the time came to play this magical instrument, its tone would be rich and deep, making his very bones vibrate as it resonated.

He took the conch horn out of his pack, unwrapping the cloth around it and placed it gently on the dresser. Then he sat down on the bed, running his hand along the coverlet. On the floor next to his bed, fresh sheets of parchment laid next to a quill and inkwell.

In the serenity of this house, with the sounds of the waves and the sea breeze drifting in from the window, it was harder for his visions to dominate his senses. Reality was seeping softly in, with the overcast hues of a gentle winter. The world felt timeless; the universe, greater than Link's dilemmas.

He stood, rejuvenated by the sounds of the ocean, and resumed his search for Marin. It was only polite to announce his presence, before he tucked himself away in his room to write. He climbed down the ladder and knocked on Marin's door. The door was ajar, and swung softly open with a dull creak.

"...Marin?" He asked the empty darkness. He stepped cautiously inside. The sun, through a tree, danced out light patterns through the window. The tree's fronds rustled fiercely.

"Marin?"

A small bed was pushed up against the window, and there was no other furniture except a chest at the foot of the bed and a bookshelf in the darkest corner. Link was drawn to it, scanning in the faint light the titles of the volumes. _Learning to Like Your Like-Like,_ copied by the hand of a child. Link chuckled. Marin's first writing lesson?

Another title caught his eye: _Slave of the Moon- Poems by Romola._ And another: _In the Heart of the Moldorm._ Link ran his fingers gently down the faded leather binding, a part of him transfixed by the curves of the scrawling ink.

A feeling that he was intruding descended upon him. It felt too intimate, being there in the closed-in darkness around her possessions. He backed clumsily out of the room and returned to his own, to sit hunched over on the bed, staring at the paper and inkwell. He had to leave soon. The third nightmare awaited him. But now that he was here, the words that he needed evaded him. How to tell Zelda... how to _warn_ her...

It didn't matter, if he didn't have the words. He set himself to the task, even though he felt unworthy of it _._ He should have told her, a long time ago. Now, whatever it was they shared… over this sea, it was stretched too thin. Nothing of his love but that which a bird could carry, could close the distance.

Resolutely, he picked up the quill and dipped the nib with ink. He had to tell Zelda how he felt, or it would kill him.

Three days of travel found him in the heart of the wilderness again, slowly making his way to the third dungeon. He had sent Bird with his letter, and wrote a note for Tarin and Marin, wishing them well and estimating when he next hoped to see them.

Evening of the third day found him at the entrance to Key Cavern, which by the clues he'd been getting, was the location of the third nightmare.

The Key Cavern was surrounded by marshes, and strange frosts had laid a delicate sheet of ice over the surface of the water. Frost-covered grass crunched under his feet as he slowly navigated his way through the swamp.

At last, a large islet appeared on the far side of the swamp. Leafless trees rose up behind it like a spiked wall, and the small yellow disk of cloud-veiled sun hid bleakly behind them. Link approached the mouth slowly. The silence and stillness of the fog were like a warning. A sense of dread rested here. He came out into the open- no monsters leaped out to attack. He walked slowly to the cave entrance.

The ground was stained with blood.

Blood. Everywhere. Lining the cave entrance like a sacrificial marking. The bits of snow that had gathered here were stained with it, splattered dark red.

Fear ran through Link's veins. The trail of blood led around to the side of the cave and out of sight. He followed it. Leaning against the rocks in a heap lay a body, tattered and covered in blood.

Marin.


	9. The Pathways In and Out of Dreams

Chapter Nine

 **The Pathways In And Out Of Dreams**

* * *

"Marin..."

Link was at her side in an instant, drawing her carefully into his arms. Her heart beat slow, but strong, and she was breathing. Regaining consciousness, she looked up.

"Link..."

"Marin! What happened?! Are you all right? Why are you here?!"

She brought a hand slowly in front of her face and turned it.

"Don't worry..." she said weakly. "Most of it's... not mine..."

Link didn't catch her meaning at first. Then he realized: the blood. It was too warm, too dark: it was monster blood.

He smoothed her hair out of her face, wiped some of the blood off her cheeks.

"No... it's okay..." Marin's voice was barely above a whisper. "It's been keeping me warm..." She smiled wanly, and he let out a bark of strained laughter. Yes, monster blood was good for that. It stayed warm for hours and hours.

"Why are you out here?" He asked again, more gently this time.

"I... I wanted to help retrieve the instruments... but I couldn't do it..."

"Why would you _want_ to?" His frustration rose again. He checked her over for wounds. There was a deep gash in her shoulder and a shallower one in her side that were both still bleeding.

"How long have you been here, Marin?"

"... few hours..."

Link didn't waste another moment. "Come on," he said, picking her up. "There's a woodcutter who lives nearby. We'll ask him for help."

He carried her the short distance out of the swamp and into the woods, to a log cabin in a clearing.

"Ho, there!" The woodcutter, seeing them approach, came out to meet them.

"My friend needs help!" Link called out, and the woodcutter, followed by his wife, brought Link and Marin inside. The wife set out immediately to wash and dress Marin's wounds, and Link and the woodcutter built up the fire and set hot water on the hearth. After her wounds were cleaned and dressed, Marin bathed, changed into an extra dress the woodcutter's wife provided, and sat in a rocking chair beside the fire, wrapped in blankets.

"Here, my dear, drink this up." The wife, whose name they learned was Ninu, gave her a mug of warm broth, watched her face carefully as she drank it, and, satisfied, returned to the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" Link aske, sitting on the floor beside her.

"Yes... yes, I'll be all right." She didn't meet his gaze, but stared into the fire. "I'm sorry, Link. I shouldn't have done it. I knew what I was getting into.

He suddenly remembered the books on her shelf. _In the Heart of the Moldorm..._ had she tried to retrieve the instruments before?

* * *

Slowly, the afternoon passed into evening. Marin didn't have a fever, and her pulse and breathing remained regular. The woodcutter, Tomas, and his wife, were watchful of Link, refused payment for their trouble when he offered. Finally, when Link nearly begged them to let him work for them a few days, to show his gratitude, they relented.

Link spent the night on the floor in the main room, in front of the hearth. Marin remained in the rocking chair. Sometime in the night, Link woke to the sound of Marin's chair rocking gently back and forth. He looked up at her- she was staring into the fire, its flames reflected in her tired eyes. She saw him watching her.

"Can't sleep either?"

"I keep waking up."

"Me too."

Link sat up, tiredness slowly being replaced with the weight of her actions on his mind. Finally, he asked,

"Why did you do it, Marin? What were you hoping to accomplish?" He couldn't hide the pain in his words. "How could you be so foolish?"

Marin managed to roll her eyes at him. "Any more insults for the half-dead girl?"

"Marin…"

She closed her eyes in defeat. "I don't know, Link. What made me think I could plunge your hunting knife- yes, I stole your knife- into the heart of a monster whose face is like so many I've befriended on the beach? Of course the first monster to rear its screaming head at me would be an octorok! I _was_ a fool, through and through. I nearly paid for it with my life. Do you still want to lecture me, Link, Hero of the Ages?"

Her epithet sent a chill through him, and finally he shook his head. "No- I don't."

She let out a frustrated sigh. "Help me outside a moment? I know you all fear my blood will turn cold from the wounds but I need fresh air. Please." Link stood and pulled her up gently, wrapped a blanket around her and helped her outside, an arm around her shoulder. A tightness rose in his chest as he watched her struggle through dizziness to walk.

He helped her lower to sit on the stone steps outside the house. A cool wind threaded gently through the trees. Marin breathed a soft sigh.

"When you defeated the first nightmare… something changed. It would happen at random: brief moments when something like a vision came over me- a vision that I was in another world. The island was still around me, the houses all where they should be, but… the sky was dark. Not like nightfall, no…" Marin trailed off. She looked up at the stars through the softly swaying palm trees and frowned at them, as though they were denying her an answer.

"The visions would 'flicker' like a candle flame. Only they're not visions. A few others have them too, not at the same time as me, and some more often, others less- and most of the islanders are oblivious. But it was enough for me to go searching for answers. This island, Link- this island is a bridge between this Realm and the Dream Realm. Right now, while the Windfish is asleep, the island resides in the Waking Realm. But when you awaken the Windfish, the island will 'flicker' into the Dream Realm, and nothing will be left to mark its place in the Waking Realm except sand and stone."

The wind seemed to rise in response to this and Marin pulled the blanket around her tighter. The weight of her words slowly sank into Link, and he said, "How did you find this out?"

A smile touched Marin's lips. "A love of books comes in handy?"

She continued: "The Windfish is a sleeping god. The god of dreams. This whole island is just his nest. Only the worthy can come and go as they please from this island. The worthy are those who destroy nightmares. The rest of us…" She shook her head bitterly. "The rest of us are unlucky strangers, who strayed upon this island and forgot what we left behind."

"Marin…" Link said suddenly. "You wanted to kill a nightmare, so you could leave this island?"

"Are you surprised that you're not the only one who yearns for adventure?"

"That's unfair. I wasn't drawn to a life of adventure. I'm an orphan, with no home and no family to return to. But you- you would leave your home and your father- for what? The monsters you meet out there are not the type to become your friends."

"Ha! How do you know that? Who's being unfair now?" Marin hugged her knees as she stared back up at the stars, then finally turned to Link with a regretful look. "I'm sorry about your parents. I didn't know that about you- though perhaps I should have wondered." She wrapped her arms more tightly around her knees and would not look at him.

"It's ok-" and in forgiveness, reached out to her nearest hand, just barely brushing his fingers against hers. He regretted it immediately: his heart did flips at the touch. He tried not to draw back too quickly for her to notice. He took a deep breath.

And then he realized: "If I kill all the nightmares and awaken the Windfish, I ruin your chances to leave too, don't I?" He stared at her. Still, she would not meet his gaze. Finally, she said,

"I've always wanted to leave, Link. I'm not destined to stay here anymore than you are. But the difference between you and me is that you must return to your home, to face an evil that hides in your kingdom, burning villages to the ground and threatening your princess. Don't think I've forgotten your stories." She closed her eyes in a pain she hoped remained hidden. "You must return home. You are _needed._ Besides. If the Windfish isn't awakened soon, nightmares will overtake the island, and what will happen to us, to _dreams,_ then? _You_ are the one to save this island. It could be that you were summoned here for that purpose."

Lin's heart sank at that thought. "I- I have another purpose… waiting for me…" _And another love,_ he thought as he looked at Marin, met her soft gaze. _Not you, not you at all._ He said it in his mind, over and over.


	10. Of Love and Legends Told

Author's Note: This one's rather long, hope you're cozy!

* * *

Chapter Ten

 **Of Love and Legends Told**

When Zelda awoke the next morning, it was to good tidings. A caravan was making its way through the valley, coming from the north. One of the village boys had seen it on his watch, as soon as the sky had begun to lighten. Darius knew the caravan immediately: the Kefei, Sosarian wandering tribes. He'd been expecting them.

Zelda sensed the air of anticipation as soon as she woke, and joined Darius and the others at the Northern Cliff. From there, they could see a blur of wagons winding down the open road. Darius had already sent a rider to meet them. Once they were under cover of the forests, supplies could be brought up the mountain.

The task took an entire day's work, with watches posted north and south of the caravan on the road as well as throughout the surrounding woods. The caravan's leader was Deko, a man of forty or so, and when he came to the campsite with the first of the supplies, Darius embraced him like a brother.

"You've been away from us for too long, old friend. And who's this?" He said as Zelda approached. He bowed dramatically and took her hand and kissed it, all in one smooth motion. "Such a beauty, hidden away in these woods!" Zelda smirked at his flirtation, flourishing words meant for a common girl's ears.

Darius cleared his throat. "Deko, may I present Zelda, Daughter of Harkinian, Princess of Hyrule."

Deko looked at Zelda with astonishment, and said, "Apologies, Princess." He spoke low and bowed in the Sosarian style of restraint, a slight nod of the head and a hand over the heart.

Many a tent circle stayed active with the work of receiving and distributing supplies, as well as accommodating the Kefei as guests, most of whom would make camp up in the woods with the villagers tonight. Zelda spent the day among them and then the evening tending to the horses in the makeshift stables the villagers had made, as long as fading daylight would allow her- and then, as long as she was willing to burn lantern oil. Finally, she gave up, blew the lantern light out.

Echoes of laughter and excited talk could be heard throughout their part of the forest as people lingered in campfire circles, even though it was late. Zelda found Darius around such a one with Deko, Error, and his man at arms, Jascha. She hesitated- they spoke quietly- but Darius saw her, and immediately stood, the others following suit.

"Please sit," and he offered her a hand.

"I apologize for interrupting," She said.

"Not at all," Darius said, giving the others a meaningful look. "We should have included you in our talk."

"And… what was it you were discussing?"

They all looked at each other, unsure of who should speak.

"Princess," Deko finally started. "We were talking about our plans over the next months. The Kefei are a much larger number than you see here. We intend to make our way to Keretia, moving quickly through the valley. We will only stay with you one night, two at most. We will move past the villages, sending scouts near as though we didn't know about the fires, and want to investigate. If we're being watched by the Keretian Mountain Clans, or by Maltuk's men, our behavior must seem as natural as possible. We'll then journey into Keretia, do some trading at the market places of Kurumet City as we do on our southern route every winter, and then head a meandering north back to Sosaria.

"Our people have split into several caravans to do this. In three weeks, another caravan headed by my wife will come through here- perhaps through a different route if we can find one, so stay watchful. Then again in another month, and again and again, until spring."

"How is my father compensating you for your trouble?"

Deko let show half a grin. "Gold, and lots of it. Not to worry, Princess. He has not insulted us nor shamed Hyrule, by asking what he cannot pay for."

Darius spoke up. "I wanted to avoid bringing in soldiers of any kind. Your father's standing army cannot spare the men anyway- not to offend-" Zelda let out a sarcastic bark of laughter, and shook her head. "-But soldiers are not subtle, and Keretia might see a military presence as a threat. We needed a better way to keep the villagers' hiding place a secret, and the Kefei are friends of mine, who are currently having trouble trading and could use the Hyrulean Rupees to lend legitimacy to their dealings. Otherwise cities in Keretia and Ertruria won't barter with them."

"Ah," Zelda said carefully, "A clever plan, that benefits everyone. Curious, though, how Sosaria isn't really involved in this at all, except through the nomadic tribes they don't wish to acknowledge of late, and the fourth prince who is so separated from his family that the daughter of their strongest ally knew nothing of him until two months ago. Tell me, Darius, were you even at court when Hyrule called upon Sosaria for help against Keretia?"

Darius' mouth dropped open. "I- I-" He stuttered.

"Your majesty," Deko tried to put in, but Darius raised a hand and he fell silent.

"You are right in all of this, Princess. I was not at court. My father's advisor sent for me. My father doesn't even know I'm here. For all he knows, it's just another faceless ambassador out here. But I promise you, I carry the clout of Sosaria's name wherever I go- and the weight of her burdens. I'll not fail you, Princess."

He regarded her with an unflinching gaze. The men around him watched them wide-eyed, waiting. Finally, she said:

"Zelda. Call me Zelda."

The others breathed a sigh of relief, and Darius' gaze softened, a hint of a smile on his lips. He gave a slight nod.

"Very well. Zelda."

"So then," she pressed onward, "do the Kefei hope to communicate with Darius' spies once they're in the city?"

"Yes, Princess," Deko answered, "But we're not sure if we'll be able to. It's dangerous, and even if we learn anything, sending someone back here would be near impossible."

"Even sending a carrier pigeon would be too dangerous," Jascha added. "It would likely be shot down." A bolt of worry went through Zelda at that thought, and she saw Bird's beautiful blue plumage against the sky in her mind's eye.

"And what about the Mountain Clans, who so many believe are the ones who actually threw the torches? How do you hope to learn more about them?" Zelda didn't look at Error when she said it, but allowed her gaze to fall naturally to him in the pregnant silence that followed. Finally, Error cleared his throat.

"M'lady, we've been sending scouts to the Lookout Point, west of here. It's a cliff with a path that dips down into a ravine and after a day's journey, brings 'em close to the Mountain Clan's camps. We know their whereabouts and 'ave been spying on them these last two months." Error didn't seem proud that he had hidden this from Zelda, but his words still had a defiant edge. Zelda considered her words carefully.

"I understand why you didn't trust me with this knowledge until now. Tell me though: have you found evidence of their guilt, or that they're planning to attack again?"

Error shook his head. "No m'lady."

"Could it be that they're not involved at all? My understanding was that the worst they'd ever done until the burnings was steal grain and chickens."

"Once of 'em broke me cousin's arm!"

"A boy," Zelda said gently, "who was caught in the act of stealing, and was attacked and was defending himself? Is that the one?"

Error looked away guiltily at that.

"You don't understand, m'lady. Our homes are destroyed. You have a nice warm castle to go home to but our homes are gone. And some'un is to blame."

"I'm sorry…" It would be easy to lecture him about undeserved blame, but Zelda knew it would close his heart to her. She tried another approach. "Let me ask you this. Do you feel, deep in your gut, that they're the ones who did it?"

Error looked pained and angry at the question, but had to shake his head.

"You're right. It's not like 'em. My 'pa, when I was a boy, used to tell it like this: that they kept the old ways of Keretia, before Keretia turned sour. If my 'pa had respect for 'em, must be a reason." He eyed Zelda a moment longer, and finally said, "I'll tell the men to stop tracking the Mountain Clans. It's too dangerous, as it is." Zelda hid her sigh of relief, and could sense the same from Darius.

"A wise idea, Error," Deko said, and patted him gruffly on the shoulder. "Come- let's talk to the men right now. I'd like to come too, if you'll allow. I'm curious about this ravine, and how much the men can tell me about the paths leading around these woods."

"Of course, they'd be happy to help." They stood to go. Deko looked over his shoulder.

"Jascha, why don't you come with us?"

Jascha looked up, surprised. "Why?"

Deko hid his exasperation poorly.

"Jascha. Come."

The young man looked at Darius, then Zelda, took the hint, and bolted up to follow the others, leaving Zelda and Darius alone with the slowly dying campfire.

Darius didn't meet Zelda's gaze, and Zelda watched him with growing amusement until finally he chanced a look at her. Then they both laughed- his embarrassed, hers triumphant. She let Darius stoke the fire a little and gather his thoughts before saying,

"I was ready to allow you to never tell me about your past… but you must know that has changed, now that I know it's affecting your decisions about my people."

"Yes, Princess- Zelda- I'm sorry. I- It's complex. But I should have been more open with you from the beginning."

"Why weren't you?"

Darius looked shocked that she didn't already know.

"You…" He searched for the words. "You were cold to me, the moment you laid eyes on me. Angry- as though my mere presence offended you. Brash in your greetings. My position is precarious enough without sharing my secrets to a hostile ally, friend in name only."

Zelda's mouth opened in protest but no words came out. Suddenly the last months took on an entirely different light.

"I'm so sorry, Darius. I-" but how to explain to him, that being away from Link was like not being able to breathe- that being sent on this mission without him was a special form of punishment- being forced to continue living her life without him- when she had no room left in her heart even for her own life's fortune and happiness.

"I'm sorry. I'm carrying a grief, and it is making me cruel."

Darius regarded her for a long time, studying her- testing the truth of her words against the look in her eyes. Finally, Darius started:

"My father grew up in a time of great peace for Sosaria. Prosperity unlike any that was remembered in the annals or tales of old. But his brothers were not peaceful men. When his father died an untimely death and he took the throne at sixteen, his brothers almost immediately began to plot against him and each other. By five years' end, he had cut one brother down in a duel, and another in a battle that cost thousands of lives. To bring back peace, he did things that were against his conscience. He ended up killing many hundreds to squash rebellions and uprisings. He placed his sisters in two marriages that he knew would be unhappy for them, to bring warmongering lords back into the fold. One of those sisters was beaten to death by her husband, whom my father then put to death. It is believed my father's first wife's death was the result of these horrors, as she loved his sister and grieved a great deal, and her pregnancy suffered many complications. Both she and the baby died. All this tragedy, because his brothers vied for power.

"When he married again, years later, he decided to do everything he could to prevent this happening again, so when in three years, his wife bore three boys, he sought out the greatest minds he could find to 'change a man's brutal heart,' as he put it. He brought philosophers, healers, artists, musicians, poets to court. He brought Deko to court, a boy of fourteen when my oldest brother was born, but already a renowned scholar. And an unsurpassed tenor."

Zelda couldn't help but smile at the image.

"Was Deko of the Kefei at the time?"

"His whole life."

"Truly?"

"You might not think it, but being a wanderer is the best way to develop one's mind. By travelling the world, one may visit all the world's libraries, not to mention see all the many types of people in the world, the many ways in which they live. And because you may never see the same book again, or look upon the same painting, or hear the same song, you learn to recall any passage, any image, any tune of interest."

"Ah- of course." Zelda had felt her share of envy of travelers, reading of Link's many adventures in his letters. That familiar pang rose in her again. She took a breath.

"So your father hoped to change the timbre of court to evoke a different future for you and your brothers?"

"Yes. And it seemed to work. Many great minds were put to the disciplines of agriculture and architecture as well, creating new strategies against the harsh Sosarian winters. As the results of these were felt, the nobles, too, invested in minds that could deliver greater yields of crops and warmer homes and castles. Prosperity was slowly returning to Sosaria. But my father's most treasured triumph was that his sons loved each other and no ambition for the throne lived among the younger brothers."

Darius let the story rest for a while, and they both sat in quiet. Other fires around the camp were being put out, one by one, as the night deepened. The only sounds were bits of low talk on the wind and the pine trees rustling, branches creaking as they leaned to and fro. It was warm for a night this deep into winter. The wind didn't cut to the bone as it did so many nights. Zelda wondered if, in an evening or two, the wind would bring rain with it.

The fire was dying out. Zelda put another log on and waited for Darius to return from his thoughts. When he met her eye, she asked:

"How did the peace end?"

He took a deep breath.

"You have met my brothers, Donalbain, Garethos, Agravaine. The twins are ten years older than me, and Donalbain, twelve. When I was six years old, and Donalbain eighteen, my father invited a Witch to court. He had been out hunting and saw her Sign. I remember her arrival. I remember her _smell_. She destroyed everything my father had spent decades building, with five words. The only five she spoke, before the hall burst into chaos and she disappeared. She pointed at _me,_ and said, _This boy will be King._ "

Zelda gasped- "No!" And she could feel the chaos of that hall, she could feel Darius' father's world crumble. And Darius'.

"I remember her hair, black and caked with snow- I remember how the red jewel glowed, on her finger that pointed. And I'll never forget the sound of her voice. Low. Melodic. Like a courtesan, seducing away from my father everything for which he fought. You would have thought that the rational mind, which my father had so long cultivated in everyone in that room, would have prevailed. Instead- chaos." That last word dropped to a whisper.

"In the weeks to follow, my whole life was upturned. Everyone's was. Great shouting arguments erupted between those who wanted to maintain order and those who feared defying the Witch's prophesy, as though it were a command. My brother Donalbain even attacked me. Cornered me one night like a common bully, accusing me of _wanting_ the Witch's words to come true. Gave me a black eye and broke my nose. When I ran to my other brothers, they responded with only cold silence, as though this were a punishment I deserved. I remember later that night, my mother found me, brought me back to my father's chambers. She left me in the antechamber with the healer and took her grief to my father- screamed and screamed at him, with the rage of a mother who'd just lost her child. _Why did you bring her here? WHY?!_ She screamed over and over. My father, to his credit, did not lift a hand against her, nor did he dismiss her. Perhaps he knew as well as she did- they _had_ lost me. In a way, they had lost all their children.

"The next day, Deko took me away from court, and ever since then, these past fifteen years, for the most part, I've been traveling with him and the Kefei."

"Have you returned to court at all?"

"Yes- twice. After ten years, when I was sixteen. My mother wept to see me. My father too. The twins were gentle, but Donalbain wouldn't speak to me. More from shame and guilt, I thought, than hatred. But his heart is hardened to me, with the fear he's lived with. I'm a threat to his crown, as long as I'm alive. If only I could convince him, his crown is the _last_ thing I would ever want. I'd die before I took the throne of Sosaria."

"Was it any different, the second time?"

"Yes- and no. Donalbain tried to make amends with me. He told me he finally realized I had no intentions against him. When I asked what changed his mind, he admitted to having me followed and spied on, the entire time I was away from court. It was insult added to injury. I had been waiting for so long, for the day I'd be welcomed back to court. But it had taken him fourteen years to allow the possibility that I wasn't amassing a force against him. But perhaps the worst part is that though he spoke the words and the evidence was plain as day, I could tell he was lying, and sill didn't trust me. I didn't know my heart could be broken again, until that day.

"I correspond with them- I visit my parents when they summer in Keretia- but I'll never return to court."

Silence fell between them, and Zelda took a long time to consider all he'd said. Something still didn't sit right, however. There was something Darius wasn't saying.

"Your father- does he know the Kefei are involved in this plan?"

Darius shook his head. "No more than he knows that I am."

Zelda nodded, not surprised. She crafted her next question with care.

"Exactly how far out of favor with court are the Kefei?"

"Zelda… it's late…"

"I know, it's just curious to me that fifteen years ago the likes of Deko were singing for the Queen and advising the King, and now they're doing the dangerous work of smuggling in a foreign land to get by."

A pained look crossed Darius' face and Zelda knew she found the crux of the issue.

"Zelda…" He sighed, rubbed his face with his hands in sudden exhaustion. "Deko believes…" He struggled for words. "Deko believes that there should not be any kings, ruling any kingdoms at all, in the whole world." He met Zelda's gaze squarely. "And I agree with him."

"By the Three- Darius!" She did not know what she was expecting, but this wasn't it.

"Please, Zelda, keep your voice down…"

"If Sosaria knew we were dealing with dissenters-" she whispered fiercely. "There could be war-"

"It's not as bad as all that. This is my father we're speaking of, and he's known Deko for decades. It is a philosophical disagreement, not treason. My father is a rational man. Most of the time. He will hear me out, if he ever learns of this."

"And Donalbain?"

"Donalbain is not king yet."

"Oh, how reassuring."

"Zelda-"

"Why was it Deko treated me with such deference then, when he learned who I was? Was he merely hiding his disdain for me, for my position?"

"No- that's not it at all. You don't understand. You're different. You're a _woman._ The most recent to inherit the throne of a _dynasty of women._ In a _king_ dom, the women don't rule. They get sold into marriages like my father's sisters. They get their sons taken away from them, lose them in war. Women are the ones to suffer the most in a kingdom. That _you are a woman heir to a throne,_ Deko sees hope in that, and I can't blame him."

"Is that how _you_ see me, as a symbol of hope? Is that why you're here, why you took on this mission? To see up-close your _ideal_ _?_ " Her words were laced with bitterness.

"I-" Darius shook his head. "I don't know." He sighed.

By now, the fire was mere embers, glowing weakly. Only the faintest light reached their faces. Darius tried speaking once again.

"Consider your Hero of Hyrule, for instance, who killed the monster Ganon. Does his killing Ganon give him the right- and the wisdom necessary- to sit on the throne of Hyrule and rule, and his sons after him?"

Zelda blushed furiously at the thought, and hoped the darkness hid her colour. "No- of course not."

"And yet, that's how it started, in the Oldest Days. Two towns or cities or lands would battle, or worse: an evil would arise and try to scourge the land, enslave its people- and a warrior, a hero, would rise up and defend the people, lead them to war to save them. Once the war was won, the people would put that warrior on a throne, and make him a king. But warriors aren't built for times of peace, and in times of prosperity, people govern themselves rather well. There's no need for a king during peacetime. So what makes a king's rule legitimate?"

Zelda shook her head, unsure.

" _Another war._ There cannot be peace as long as one man has so much power. Either others will covet it and start turmoil, or the man himself will become a tyrant and create his own war in hopes of uniting his people under him, or gaining more land and resources to grow his kingdom. Thus a vicious cycle begins, and there can be no peace. By putting kings on a throne to govern us, we end up destroying that very thing which we have loved, that very thing for which we have fought so hard."

"Do you think a woman on the throne could change that cycle?"

Darius shrugged. "I don't know. I _want_ to think so."

Zelda shook her head, looking deep into the fire.

"You are a learned and well-traveled man. You must know of the Triforce."

"I've heard the word spoken."

"It's the reason a woman has ruled Hyrule, for fifteen generations now. But that power is coveted just as any king's throne is, and Hyrule's history is more bloody, more war-torn than that of all the other lands combined."

"Evil minds, perhaps, see a woman on a king's throne and are more outraged, because it flies in defiance of the culture of war and power."

"And therefore are more likely to want to tear that woman and her kingdom down. I don't see the break in this cycle that you're hoping for, and I can't be your solution. I'm just as trapped as you are, and the price I've paid for my power has been too great."

"Zelda…"

"No! I can't be your emblem of hope! Not when my own has been destroyed."

Darius opened his mouth to speak, but was too shocked.

"I'm sorry…" He finally managed. Zelda stared hard into the fire, unwilling to respond.

"Look, it's very late, perhaps we should discuss this tomorrow…"

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm going to see the Witch."

"What? No! Are you serious? You can't-"

She stood suddenly, unwilling to take this any longer. Darius stood too.

"Because you trusted me with the truth of your past, I'll trust you with a truth of my own. My mother died when I was three years old. Since that day, my life has been a living hell in more ways than I can count, and my kingdom completely destitute. She was twenty years old when she died. She'd be 38 this solstice." Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper. "My whole life, I've been working to bring her back. I know it can be done. I have books that detail ways to make it happen, and I've seen it succeed, to an extent. But there are missing pieces. If there's even the slightest chance that the Witch can help me bring my mother back, I have to pursue it. I have to see her." She started to turn away, then turned back.

"Hyrule's peace was destroyed the day my mother died. Ever since, my father and I have failed, time and again, to keep our kingdom from burning. Here I am," She gestured west to where Kakariko lay smoldering unseen. "Failing once more. This is my greatest sorrow. Now you know the darkest part of my soul, Darius. The part willing to incur any danger, even dealings with a Witch, even after all you've told me."

She looked back at Darius, and saw an understanding in him that she didn't expect. A thought occurred to her.

"You said you met me before, once. It was at my mother's funeral, wasn't it?"

Slowly, Darius gave a small nod. "I was six, at the time. I never forgot you, or that day." He sighed. "I'll not stop you, Zelda. But there's more to say, and I don't want you to leave with anger in your heart, if I can help it."

After a moment, Zelda said, "I'm not angry. Just resolute." She turned to leave.

"Zelda-" He called out softly. She faced him again.

"You are already a vision of hope, there's no helping it. But it's because you're gentle, and subtle, and you see right through to the quick of things. No truth can hide from you. Who cannot but hope, witnessing those qualities in their future Queen?"

Before she could answer, he bowed, turned away, and disappeared into the darkness.


	11. The Witch, the Princess, and Death

Chapter Eleven

 **The Witch, The Princess, and Death**

* * *

Zelda woke long before dawn, while the stars were still cold diamonds illuminating the silence. Flakes were falling in sparse, spinning patterns from unseen clouds. The camp, the trees, the shadows were as dark as her hopes. The princess lit the lantern beside her pallet and dressed warm for the journey. Her pack was ready. She carried it and the lantern out across the encampment, moving like a ghost amid the dark tents and dead campfires. Wind swirled with stray snowflakes.

"Morning, Epona," Zelda whispered, and the mare snorted in greeting, stomping her hooves restlessly. Riding Epona, even a slow and careful ride, would get her to the Witch's house in a day. Epona would enjoy the exercise and the challenge of the mountains.

Dawn was approaching by the time Epona was saddled and ready to go. Zelda blew out her lantern and fastened it to the saddle with the rest of her packs, and they made their quiet way out of the stables and into the deep of the woods.

 _Link. Dearest Link._

Composing another letter to fill her thoughts.

 _Distance of lands, distance of oceans is one thing. Distance of time, a different monster altogether. A moaning thing, a caged wild thing, with eyes from which the light is dying._

She could barely see as she walked Epona along the narrow mountain path.

 _I feel you all around me. Everywhere I go, it is for your sake._

The gray outline of dark shapes began to give way to a wash of pre-dawn blue. Zelda let out a sigh- her breath came out in a white cloud adding to the fog. It had been nearly three months since she received a letter from Link. Her heart had stretched thin across those months.

 _What if the Witch offered me a monster's bargain, to have you back? Would I have the strength to refuse?_

Ha! Strength? She would not even hesitate, if she could see his face again. But a deep foreboding grew at that thought.

Frost-covered red-willow branches curved delicately and glistened in the first rays of morning sun. Dark pines loomed. The only sound was Epona's careful steps. No bird sang, the entire morning.

She took a deep breath- by noon the air had grown startlingly cold, the sting of it in her lungs bringing her back to reality. She was already almost to the field that leaned so sharply down the mountainside, where she first saw the Witch's smoke.

"Let's quit for a while," Zelda said to her mare, and dismounted, walking Epona through the last thinning patches of trees until the field was before them. She scanned the view of the mountains once again, and, as before, was taken by their majesty. Then she looked for it. At first she couldn't see anything against the gray clouds and still-rising fog. But then, there it was, make no mistake- the deep red smoke, the Sign of the Witch.

Zelda and Epona journeyed down the mountain, crossed the stream that cut through the valley at the bottom, and made their winding way up the neighboring mountain. Zelda had a keen sense of direction, and had never strayed too far in her search for the Witch- and every time they came to a clearing, she could re-orient herself, scanning the sky through the trees until she could see the smoke. The sun was setting when she finally found the glade of the Witch's dwelling. Dusk-colors were gathering in all around. The glade was full of blacks and greens and the frost-covered needles shivered.

The princess dismounted at the edge of the glade. At the far end stood the Witch's hovel, bright inside but draped in shadows without.

"Why don't you go wander a bit," Zelda whispered to her horse, and dug a carrot out of the pack for her. Epona would be safer out wandering than tethered, especially if there were wolves around. Besides, Link, who had originally owned her, had trained the mare to come at a certain whistle. He'd taught it to Zelda- it was like a little tune. Epona nuzzled Zelda, almost knocking her off balance, before disappearing into the darkness. Zelda gathered her cloak around her, and crossed the silent glade.

The fence around the Witch's hovel was made of bones- from animal, monster or man, Zelda could not tell. The hovel itself was a sunken shamble staring out like a crumpled face. Red smoke curled up from the scorched stone chimney. A small dog circled aimlessly in the mud. It left no footprints and when it opened its mouth to bark, no sound came out.

"You hover in the shadows like a thief," a voice full of power cut through the silence. Zelda jerked her head around; the Witch was a shadow waiting in the doorway.

The princess took a deep breath, opened the low bone gate and walked through.

"You summon me, Sister of Shadows. I hesitate because I am afraid." Zelda said it with all the calm and courage she could muster.

The witch's cackle echoed into the clearing, booming among the trees. "True, the skull of a princess is quite a prize. Now come in, or cowardice will rule the rest of your days."

The Witch was still cast deep in shadows as she opened the door, and Zelda did not hesitate this time as she crossed the threshold into the Witch's dwelling.

The hovel was warm as a forge and skeleton arms protruded from the walls in various states of decay. A huge raven, the largest bird Zelda had ever seen up close, stared at the princess, its eyes welled up with tears of blood. It squawked at her abruptly. Zelda jumped. Suddenly there was the sound of wings flapping against windows. The princess turned to see huge vultures landing on the window ledges outside, shifting their feet and settling in, eyeing Zelda as they preened. Sometimes they opened their beaks to let out a screech- but no sound came. They seemed to wait patiently for Zelda from behind the frosty glass.

The princess took in the fireglow and shadows all around the hovel, what terrors they showed and hid- the glass jars of worms on the shelf along the wall, the antlers whose prongs were unnaturally twisted into spirals.

The Witch shut the door behind her. Zelda turned to see her in the firelight. She was hideous, with yellow eyes, and strangled white hair and teeth both stained yellow. Her fingers and hands were gnarled and knotted, and her fingernails were long and thick and pointed, curling like talons. The rags she wore were filthy, and smelled of corpses. The Witch favored one yellow eye and stared Zelda down with it.

"You think you know what you want from me. You think you know what your heart desires." She turned and hobbled toward the hearth, poked a stick in one of the smaller cauldrons. "You seek the power of resurrection. I can give you what you want, but the price is too great. If you survive your time with me, your heart will be sick with grief. It might kill you, if I don't."

"I am fated for this- and I cannot avoid fate, can I?"

"No, but sometimes it is wise to try!" And the Witch tossed her head back and cackled. The flames flickered in her eyes, and she did a little dance as she hacked out another laugh.

"But now that you're here, it's too late for that. So you will work for me, and earn your keep. Clean my dwelling- sweep my floors, scrub my hearth; dust, prepare my bath for the morning. The well is outside, in back. The buckets and rags and broom are here-" and she pointed to a dark corner. "My friend will be watching over you." She took a skull off a shelf and stuck it onto a stick, then dug the stick into the dirt floor. Suddenly a little flame appeared in the skull's eye-sockets, and the sight chilled Zelda.

"My friend here sees through skin, into bone and heart. He watches and judges, just as I do. By dawn, a flame will be extinguished- either his, or yours."

Then she slumped into a rocking chair, closed her eyes and was immediately snoring, head tilted awkwardly. The rocking chair rocked forward and back for her, its creaks like accusations.

Panic rose in Zelda so quickly she was reeling, nearly falling over from dizziness. She reached out to steady herself and her hand found the raven's perch- the raven flapped its wings and squawked angrily, then bit her hand without mercy.

"Aaagh!" Zelda cried out, and tears blinded her eyes- more from fear or pain, she couldn't tell. She was bleeding, now; too much blood for the wound to be natural. The blood spilled down her hand and onto the floor in a thin, steady stream that wound its way across the room to where the skull's stake was driven in. The skull seemed to smile. Zelda could not stop the bleeding, though she pushed on the wound desperately with her other hand. She didn't realize she was whimpering until the vultures outside interrupted the sound, shoving their heads against the glass, opening their beaks to make those terrifying noiseless cries. The raven squawked again at her, then eyed her with amusement. She backed away. The Witch was still snoring loudly, even through all the noise. Something about that was heart-breaking for Zelda. She was alone.

The princess eventually gave up on her bleeding hand. If this was what killed her, she could be grateful that something worse hadn't. This was the only sane thought she had, and she clung to it as the key to escaping with her life. Her other main thought, amid a stream of them, was that cutting off her hand would stop the bleeding wound.

Zelda let the blood spill, staining her dress as it went. It streamed to the base of the skull's stake. She went to the corner where the broom, bucket and rags were. Wherever she went, the skull turned to watch her, and her dripping blood slowly made its way towards him.

Zelda could feel her fear like never before. It was like the skull's stare was turning it into a living thing, a black spirit- a poe- or thousands of tiny black mealworms eating her alive. She reached for the broom, clawed the cobwebs away though they stuck to her hands- and began to sweep. Her bleeding didn't make it easy- the little streams caked up the straws of the broom and left streaks on the dirt floor. All the while, the black fear-worms were eating her. She swept with more and more vigor, more and more desperation- until she was using the broom to cover the floor with her blood. When every inch was covered, she stopped.

She did the same as she scrubbed the hearth. Her fear was transforming into sadness, and she wept as she scrubbed, the skull watching her the whole time.

The night continued on, ruthlessly slow. Her bleeding was ruining everything- staining the very things she scrubbed and dusted. She couldn't touch anything without smearing it. She was weeping uncontrollably now- going through the motions of dusting, limbs weak, scattering droplets. Zelda thought of Link. She'd never see him again, she knew now. She would meet her death here, and never look upon Link's face again.

What had she been thinking? That the Witch would just hand her the secrets she wanted? Her mother was dead, and she was about to be, too. Why had she spent her whole life wanting this so badly? Getting her mother back wouldn't give her back the year she spent in a dungeon, or all the years she had been gone. Nothing could give Zelda back her innocence- nothing, at least, given from the hand of a Witch.

The princess limped outside to the well. Anger and gave her strength to pull up the bucket of water. She carried it inside and poured it into the rancid bath-cauldron. Then she went back outside. Again and again she went to the well and filled the bucket. On her last trip she collapsed against the well, spilled half her bucket's contents and those of her stomach. The vultures on the windowsill cried their victory with silent screeches and descended upon her.

With a forgotten instinct, she drew her knife and swung at them, barely managing to keep them away. One landed on her and tore into her shoulder, and she screamed so loud she could hear its echoes in the valley. She pushed the bird of death away and stood, and the vultures all returned to their window perch, eying her with smug expressions. The skull, too, stared at her through the window.

The princess leaned against the well, her scream still echoing. She was sure that even a mountain away, Darius could hear it.

Darius. If her heart was pounding before, it was thundering now. For the first time, she let it. He was the person he was closest to, now.

And he was beautiful. There, she admitted it. Beautiful, with indigo eyes like the ocean in the moonlight. The thought of those eyes gave her sudden resolve. She drew in a breath of sharp cold air. She stared down at the bucket, filled with half-water, half-vomit. She didn't have the strength to pull up another bucket's worth, and dawn must be approaching. She picked up this bucket and hauled it back into the hovel, and poured its contents into the cauldron. Pieces of vomit rose placidly to the top. Then she lit some straw at the hearth and used it to light the dying embers underneath.

She had done everything she was asked. She didn't think about how much worse she had made everything. With no more direction, she came to sit in the middle of the floor, in front of the skull. And for the last two hours of the night, they stared unblinking into each other's fires. The fearworms had been squirming in Zelda all night- but now, in front of her defeat, certain of death, they disappeared. There was nothing she could do for her people now. And she would never see Link or her father or Impa or Darius again. Now, she was only waiting.

So she stared into the heart of the skull's flame-filled eye-sockets, no longer afraid of what it would do to her. She just waited patiently to be turned to ash.

As she did, questions started to rise in her mind, about the skull's fire. Who was the man whose skull this once was? She had compassion for that man now, and for what he had become. Was this his fire, too, or a making of the Witch's? If one stared into it long enough, what would one see?

Staring at the skull's eye-sockets, she started to feel her own fire, burning within her, at the core of her being. _This is what the skullflame will extinguish,_ she understood now.

But the fire inside her gripped at her very guts, screaming- _no!_ And it rose up with such force that it filled the entire hovel, and Zelda felt she could fly on the thermals of its heat. It was blinding- she saw nothing but a brilliant white light. Then, in a flash, it was gone, her vision returned.

The first light of dawn shone through the window. The skull's fire was out.

The Witch was watching Zelda from her rocking chair, nodding her approval.

"Good, good," She said, looking around. Zelda did, too. The floor was immaculately swept, the hearth clean. There was no sign at all of the blood that had spilled, except on Zelda's own clothes. She looked down at her hand- the deep cut from the Raven's beak was still there, as were the gashes on her shoulder. The scars would remain; but they no longer bled.

"Now," the Witch said, "You will gather fire-wood and tend the hearth while I bathe. Go on, now! Go!"

Morning light was pouring through the trees, and Zelda gathered firewood, beyond even exhaustion.

She "earned her keep" with the Witch all day, cleaning the cauldron, tending the fire, preparing meals and helping mix potions.

Those two hours staring into the skullfire were two of the truest hours of her life. She was changed, she could feel it. She wandered through that change the way she wandered through that day: child-like, directionless, trusting.

Evening came and went. Sometime long after sunset, the Witch stopped Zelda in the middle of pouring a tincture.

"Sleep," she commanded, and pointed to a pile of hay in a corner. "You have proven yourself worthy. You are my apprentice now. But you must understand: you will not learn the gift of resurrection from me. That is a cursed thing. I will teach you something greater."

Zelda didn't argue. She walked in the direction the Witch pointed and collapsed onto the pile of hay, falling asleep immediately. She dreamed, though. And her dreams were many and dangerous.


	12. My Heart Begins and Ends With You

Chapter Twelve

 _My Heart Begins And Ends With You_

* * *

Snow had fallen, and a brilliant frosty blue dazzled where once gray blanketed the skies. White entombed the trees and mountainsides. Zelda left the Witch's dwelling after three days. Epona rode with ease and energy despite the snow. They reached the steeply sloping field by midday, riding out to its open spaces with relish. The air was ice-cold against Zelda's face, the snow blinding in the sun.

Darius was waiting for her, at the far end of the field. He had dug a small pit and was huddled by a fire there. He stood as she approached. Her heart pounded in her throat. She eased Epona to a stop, dismounted in one flowing motion. Darius stopped in front of her. She came close to him, inches from him. Touched his face as though he were a wild thing: smoothed his brow, drank in his deep indigo gaze. Half of her could see Link's gaze, bright as the sky, from another age. A dark corner of her mind remembered one of her mother's books, called "The splitting of the Self upon dying." Was she dying?

"Zelda…" Darius whispered; the sound of his voice filled her senses, and she inhaled sharply. One more breath, and she closed the distance and kissed his mouth.

A stunned moment- then he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, deepening the kiss. A bright, blazing panic rose from the core of her being- joyous, thrilling- and the mountains loomed in ardent silence, and the wind blew wildly around them, lifting up snowdrift in spirals.

They broke away- already, she missed the heat of his mouth-

"Zelda…" He whispered again, and she could hear the concern in his voice. Could he tell that she couldn't give her heart to him?

"I'm sorry…" She couldn't yet pull away. "I can't- I can't belong to you…" She hated herself for saying it: "I belong… I belong…"

"I know," He said softly. "You belong to no one."

It took all of Zelda's self-control not to kiss him again for saying that. He kissed her brow gently, lingered there for a long moment, his hands buried in her hair. Zelda breathed in his scent.

"I thought I'd never see you again."

"I feared the same." Then Darius pulled away, a smile growing on his lips. "You're not going to kiss everyone at camp like that, are you?"

Zelda let out a laugh and let herself collapse a little against him. He wrapped his arms around her once more.

"Do not worry, Zelda," he murmured into her hair. "You owe me no explanation. Besides- we are friends, and sometimes…" But he did not know how to finish that sentence- sometimes friends kiss? Sometimes friends trample a little on each other's hearts?

But they weren't friends. They had never been friends.

"Come," He said resolutely, pulling her back to study her face. "You… look terrible…" She laughed heartily at that. "We should get you back to camp. Get you cleaned up."

They put out the small campfire and mounted their horses. Zelda turned to look once more at the Witch's smoke, as they left the field. Darius kept a close eye on her- she could tell that he was, though he tried to hide it. Not once, though, did he ask about the Witch.

By sundown, they reached camp. The darkening skies allowed Zelda to retreat to her tent with little notice. Still, she took care to hide her bloodied dress with her cloak, and dismissed her handmaids before they could study her closely.

After she had changed her clothes, washed up, and worked a comb through her hair, Darius came to take a look at her wounds.

"It will scar," Darius said, turning her hand over in his. The raven's bite had punctured the skin between her forefinger and thumb, and had nearly torn through the muscle. A dull pain throbbed even through the numbing salve after he was done dressing it. "At least there'll be no infection."

Zelda looked up at the prince, feeling at once vulnerable and grateful and afraid. "Thank you," She said softly. The Witch had given it no such attention. Darius, brow furrowed, seemed to be thinking the same thing.

She met his gaze- there were a thousand questions in his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came.

"You need rest," Darius finally said. "I'll see you in the morning. The snows came, while you were gone. The fires have finally died. We can go to Kakariko and search for clues, on the morrow." He still had her hand in his. He brought it up to his lips- gently kissed her fingers. Looked back at her with a deep gaze. "Good night, Princess."

After he left, the guard announced another visitor. On her assent, he opened the tent flap and a gust of wind flew in, followed by Error, his arm held out stiffly. Bird rested there, flapping his wings a little to keep his balance.

"Bird-!" Zelda gasped, rushing over to her little friend. He shook his head a little, as if shaking away the cold. She held out her arm and the pigeon hopped over to it.

"This one came in just after sunset," Error said. "It's carrying quite a heavy message, m'lady. Figured it was meant for you."

Zelda could hardly breathe a _thank you._ Error nodded and left with no other words.

The princess untied the tiny strip of cloth that bound the letter to Bird's leg and with the gentlest of movements, unfurled the letter.

 _Zelda,_

 _Tonight is the Solstice, the last night of lengthening darkness, and the weeks leading up to now have filled my dreams with revelations. The first and most important is that I must tell you this: I love you. I have loved you for lifetimes, for ages upon ages. To love you is a part of who I am, a truth etched in my soul. It was wrong of me not to have told you this before. Forgive me._

 _The second is that you and I are bound up in an old, cruel dance. We know that the Triforce chooses and merges with whomever its pieces please- but is it really different people every time? What if the people it originally chose, at the beginning of time, cannot truly die? What if they are born again, over and over, to play out the same conflict, never to find resolution?_

 _This is why I must warn you. Zelda. My soul-mate. As much as we are bound to each other, we are bound to him. Be assured, he is out there somewhere, and he is still a force for ill. Keretia may be a threat, but I urge you- look to Ganon as the source of this evil._

 _On Koholint lives the WindFish, the God of Dreams. This whole island might have been dreamed into existence by this sleeping god. What about us? What if you, and I, and Ganon, are merely dreams from which the Triforce can't wake up? And if so, how do we fight an evil that has no end?_

 _Know this, Zelda- I have loved you since the beginning- with a love that reaches back through the ages. Remember it, even if I do not return. I remain forever yours-_

 _-Link_

Zelda did not sleep that night- which is perhaps why she lived through the burnings.

* * *

End of Part One


	13. Awakening Once More

**Part Two**

* * *

 _Chapter Thirteen_

 _Awakening Once More_

* * *

 _Link, wake up._

This world didn't make sense. The skies were black. The clouds raced by so fast.

 _Link... wake up..._

That space between ground and sky was filled with bright blue, like a fog of color rising from the oceans' depths- like the breath of her fiercest monsters.

 _Link..._

The Hero awoke.

Now there was black. Link struggled for memory to place him. His senses were slow to return. He struggled for voice. He was trapped- unable to move, to see, to speak...

A cool hand rested on his forehead.

"Link... wake up... wake up please..."

His eyes snapped open. He sat up. Everything was still black.

"Where am I?"

"You killed the Slime Eye, Link. You nearly died. You're gravely injured... you're in a coma. We're doing all we can..."

Link's eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. He was in his guest room, at Marin's house.

"I was in a coma?"

Marin hesitated. Link could barely see her outline in the darkness, but it went very still with his question.

"You _are_ in a coma, Link."

Link didn't respond at first. He held up his arms in front of his face. He could feel himself turning them over. "I don't understand."

Marin's hand found his in the darkness.

"Come with me, Link."

She began leading him through the small house. Its hall seemed labyrinthine in this dark. They were taking turns he didn't remember. Where the kitchen should have been, there was a wall. Instead of the familiar smells of rosemary and ocean, a new scent of strange spices lingered in the air.

"Now that you've killed three Nightmares, the Windfish is closer to being awake. He's in that place between sleep and wakefulness, and the people of this island, because of this, are flickering back and forth between the two worlds."

As she said this, they finally came to the entrance of the house and stepped outside. What Link beheld took his breath away. The world was dark- the sun shone like a yellow moon, in a sky of black and crimson, and the stars collected in great swirling patterns, so bright that they made pieces of the night sky glow red around them. The ocean was a glittering, ghostly blue, and sea-creatures leaped out of it in graceful arcs, leaving spray that spiraled and lingered in the air longer than possible. And the trees were luminous of their own accord.

Tears flowed freely from Link as he beheld all this. He made no attempt to wipe them away.

"What- what is this," his voice struggled to work.

"It's the Dream Realm, Link. The Realm of the WindFish. You must understand, while I still have time- you are here, Link, and you cannot leave until you wake up. I and the others on this island will only be here when we 'flicker' here from the Waking Realm. The island is a bridge, Link. It- and its inhabitants will only be here with you in the moments when the WindFish flutters awake. But you..." Marin's eyes were full of tears now, too.

"Oh, Link! You don't understand... it's been two months now that you've been in this coma, and it's taken this long for you to wake up in _this_ world..." She looked away, her shoulders beginning to shake.

"Marin..." Link gathered her into his arms, stroking her hair.

"I'm so scared..." she whispered into his chest. They remained that way for a long time, holding each other while the bright blue waves sang.

"What must I do?"

"I don't know... all I know is that space and time don't work the same way here. You're not limited by their laws like you are in the other world..."

 _How did Marin know this?_ Some remote part of him thought.

He started to ask her this- but then a bright light surrounded her, and there, with his arms still around her, she dissolved into nothingness.

"Marin..." His voice choked up again as he called out her name, as though that would bring her back. Koholint must now be in the real world...

He turned around in a slow circle, taking in his surroundings. The sky, dark, and the land and waters, luminous- he sank to his knees, gathered up the strange black sands in tight fists, pounded those fists into the ground- what was this prison that surpassed all beauty?!

He remembered the battle now. The Slime Eye, how it flew up into the shadows of the cavern's ceiling and came down upon him like a crushing weight... how badly was he injured, in the real world? Marin said he had killed the monster? She must have followed him- after promising not to! Was it she who dragged his body from the cave? Did she somehow finish off the monster, or had be managed to do it with that last blow?

Had she recovered the Wind Instrument?

Link finally just laid back into the sands, and watched these strange new constellations turn. Marin had said he was not limited by time and space... was it true? Could he go anywhere?

He wanted to go to only one place- wherever Zelda was.

Resolute, Link stood. Ahead of him was the ocean. Beyond that, Hyrule. He fixed his will on it, heard its song, heard the oldness of it- reached out and felt time like a web that he could touch. And stepping into that web, he crossed over the endless waters. Great tidal waves of each rose up around him, testing him. A storm followed him as he walked among the waves, and lightning struck around him, so black it made cracks in the universe. Link crossed- and in years and seconds he was there, on the shores of Hyrule. Giant Keese flew out of the caves in the cliffs and danced in the air around him. He feared them not. Indeed, here they were his friends- his dream-guides who wished only for songs.

 _Can you lead me to Zelda?_ He asked their twirling white forms.

 _No,_ they spoke in his mind. _She is hidden from us._ And they flew up into the air, circling him from high above- a halo of protectors.

Link began his search, roaming the forests and hills, the deserts, mountains, and gravelands of Hyrule. Every step he took on his homeland brought fresh tears, and they flowed endlessly down his face. He paid them no mind- for he was here. Home. And being in Hyrule of the Dream Realm was like looking into her hidden nature and knowing all her secrets. He had traveled Hyrule all his life. She was as familiar to him as his own hands. Now, among the tangled vines climbing endlessly tall crimson trees, all glowing, pulsating with life, Link rested in a new knowledge. He was awakened.

But he could not find Zelda.

 _Zelda..._ and his whisper carried across the years. In speaking her name, he suddenly knew its meaning: strange, rare, precious.

 _Link._ And her voice rang out as though from the clouds that dared obfuscate those new red stars. _Meet me at the dawn of the next world. You'll find me in white, in the light of the sacred fire. I'll be waiting for you..._

 _Zelda..._ he called out to her but the voice was gone.

Link wandered on, following the clouds that raced across the sky. They seemed to illuminate, not darken the landscape. The endless, rolling scarlet hills of Dream Hyrule stretched out in all directions. Link found himself among the gravelands- the scar of Hyrule, where those slain in the months of Ganon's reign lay beneath white stones that stretched as far as the eye could see. In Dream Hyrule, they walked, still alive in someone's heart in the Other Realm. Link watched them from afar, dancing around dark fires, worshiping their dead gods.

Then he realized- he needed to go down among them. He needed to visit the Queen, whose tomb lay in the center. In the Other Realm, the real world, he had visited her tomb many times, alone and with Zelda. Whenever he came near in his travels, he visited. It was dangerous, for Poes and Wizrobes resided in plenty- but he never hesitated. It was a simple white tomb. He always brought Gardenias, the Queen's favorite flower. They always wilted too quickly- it was that flower's nature.

Now Link walked among the white gravestones, avoiding the ghosts where they chanted in their circles. He had no flowers this time, and couldn't bear to rip any glowing stalks from this dreamearth. He brought only himself.

The Queen's tomb was encircled entirely in black cloud. The fog billowed out and light flitted through like winged creatures. Link moved slowly- finally, he stepped into view of the tomb. It stood raised on a high stone dais, with doors that arched and ended in a point. In the Other Realm, the doors were sealed shut. Here, they opened to a consuming blackness, full and perfect. From here, the black fog billowed out.

There a figure sat, his back against one side of the arching doorway, his legs sprawled out in front of him. He wore dark armor, and his features were cast in darkness.

"So," The figure growled in a familiar voice. "The Hero arrives."

Ganon.

Link's stomach dropped like a stone. He fumbled for his sword- but it had never been with him.

"If I could have killed you here, you'd be dead by now," Ganon spoke again.

That spike of fear, the memory of being twelve and facing Ganon in his full power- these things started to subside- but in their place rose an anger that threatened to consume him. The memory of seeing Zelda's gaunt face, from the shadows of her prison cell, her ghost-like eyes...

Link hadn't really understood who Ganon was until after he had killed him. It wasn't until he saw what he had done to Zelda that he truly hated the monster.

And now he was here, and Link's anger nearly blinded him. His fists were clenched so tight his fingernails drew blood.

He tried to breathe but he couldn't. He had no way of killing Ganon- but Ganon was already dead- wasn't he?

"What are you doing here?!" Link could hardly spit out the words. Ganon ignored him, and took a swig of some vile-looking poison from a bottle. Link realized suddenly that his figure, though in shadows, was obviously that of a man- not a monster. But the voice was undoubtedly his...

"It's too bad I didn't know Zelda had the Triforce of Wisdom when I had her in prison," he said idly, dangling the bottle like a teardrop between two fingers. "She was fun to beat at first- she would crumple to the ground with one strike. But it got boring after a while, especially since she wouldn't talk- so we tried silence and starvation. Such passive forms of torture, now that I think of it… I lacked imagination, by then." He took one more swig of his bottle while Link seethed. "If I had known better, I would have worked day and night to rip that Triforce from her flesh and bones!" And he grabbed the body of his bottle and smashed it in his fist, bits of glass and poison flying everywhere. They lingered in the air, and wherever the poison landed, it burned through ground and stone like acid.

"But let's be honest," Ganon continued. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't have known that killing her wouldn't release the Triforce. I would still have lost my chance. Although," and he let out a terrible booming laugh. "Seeing that haughty little princess dead might have almost been worth it!" And his howling laughter echoed in the fog.

Link's whole body trembled with fury.

"How. Are. You. Here." He said through gritted teeth. His arms and legs were shaking.

"There are many realms, Hero," Ganon said with a touch of impatience. "Just as you can visit this Realm, so can I. Beautiful, isn't it? Too bad I can't ravage this one too..." He patted the stone threshold across which he reclined. "At least the lovely Queen lent me her tomb for a window."

"How..." It couldn't have been true. Where was the Queen? Why was Ganon here instead?

"Just wait until I am released from the Sacred Realm, Hero of Hyrule. Too bad you won't be alive to see your beloved homeland destroyed again. But perhaps I'll keep the princess alive. I know you won't rest even in your grave, knowing the torment I have in store for her."

Something in Link snapped. He stepped forward, ready to strangle the monster, willing to do or risk anything to cause him pain. But a voice stopped him.

 _No, Link._

The voice was angelic, more beautiful than song. It was Zelda's- and yet, it sounded different...

 _Do not approach him now. That's what he wants._

He stopped short. _Who are you?_ He asked with his mind's voice.

 _You know where to find him now. Zelda needs to know this. Do not throw your life away to confront him now._

"What are you waiting for, Hero? Afraid?" Ganon's voice was dripping with disgust. Another attempt to provoke.

Link didn't trust his own voice. He backed away. Far from the tomb now, he turned to the sky.

 _Who are you, that sees me, and knows me, and helps me?_

But he was answered only with silence.


	14. The Songs of Time and Nightmares

Chapter Fourteen

 _The Songs Of Time And Nightmares_

* * *

On and on, the clouds swirled and shifted, pregnant with moonlight and bonelight. The worlds were endless and they were Link's to roam. His only desire hidden from him, he wandered on in aimless fashion. Clouds dissipated. Black sky, punctured with weak sun, prevailed.

Link crossed again the oceans of water and time, and the gods of lightning and flame flanked his movements. Back on the island of Dream Koholint, he wandered through the empty village of Mabe. The fountain's waters were bright blue in the town square. Droplets spiraled as they fell.

He perused the library, as he always did whenever he stopped in the village. The titles were all unfamiliar: _When Shall We Three Meet Again; In Dreams Mudora Speaks; Songs For That Which We Have Loved._ The last, Link pulled off the shelf. He opened it to a random page. It was blank, except for one sentence: _No requiems yet for you._

Link flipped through the other pages of the book. All were blank. Startled, he shut the book and returned it to the shelf, his fingers leaving prints in the dust.

 _No requiems yet for you._ No songs of grief- yet. Even if, in the real world, his body was perhaps mortally injured, and he could not wake... but he could still strive for his goal...

Link set off again- this time for the beach. All sense of time was leaving him- the sun and moon did not move in the sky. The moon's phases didn't make sense. And yet Link was becoming sensitized to something else: he was hearing _songs_. They were guides for him, through the great mystery.

Except one. One was the song of a Nightmare. It was a mournful, screeching sound, painful even from a great distance.

Link stopped at Marin's house. His sword hadn't been with him all this time- perhaps it was there. He wandered the utterly dark hallways of the empty house. They twisted this way and that, a maze that mocked the house of the Other Realm. Finally, he found his room. In the profound shadows, Link could make out his sword, lying across the bed the way a knight might hold one in effigy. He retrieved the sword and headed out.

Outside, the song of the Nightmare pierced through the windless air like war horns.

The monsters ignored Link, humming songs of sand and rock and tide. His heart went out to them. They were different from the Nightmares, whose songs made an art out of inflicting fear. No wonder the WindFish was haunted. Why were they disturbing him so? Had they always been here?

Link arrived at a part of the beach where the cliffs rose high into the air. At some points, the water reached right up to the rocks that formed the cliff's base. Link climbed these with some difficulty. They were slippery with saltwater and seaweed. Finally, he came to a cave out of which echoed the Nightmare's song. Link climbed to its mouth and entered.

The walls and floor of the cave glittered with thousands of tiny crystals, their facets catching light from an unknown source. The crunch of crystals underneath Link's footsteps gave away his presence with loud echoes- but no monsters appeared, just yet.

As Link rounded a corner, a rock caught his boot and he fell, landing on his hands and knees. They bled from scuffing against the crystals' too-sharp edges. That's when he realized: these were not crystals at all.

They were fish hooks.

Fish hooks, of all types and sizes, protruded from the cave's surfaces. Many looked old, but none were rusted. Each had an unnatural shine, especially at the tip. Link checked the bottom of his boots- they were scuffed up bad. He took a deep breath and continued.

He rounded one more corner- finally, monsters waited- slimy, fishlike creatures with black eyes that thirsted for blood. Link dispatched them easily, but did so with more sorrow and compassion than he expected. All those mournful monsters roaming Mabe and the beach had an effect on Link.

Beyond these monsters, Link finally found the Nightmare's chamber. Its song hung in the air like an acrid stench. There was a pool at the end of the cavern, surrounded by four torches that gave off a blue light. Link approached slowly. When nothing came out of the shadows to greet him, he came to the edge of the perfectly still pool and touched the tip of his sword to its surface.

With a terrifying roar, the Nightmare rose out of the pool and swung its head wildly around. It was a giant, maimed, snake-like sea-creature, with a tail that ended in several spikes. It lashed out with its barbed tail, which snapped back and forth with unbelievable speed. Link was struck in the thigh even as he dodged.

The Sea Nightmare rounded itself up for another attack. Link looked down and saw blood soaking the hem of his tunic. It was darker than Other Realm blood. It flowed more slowly, too.

That was when he realized: time was still a plaything- not a rule. He could tap into it as he did to cross the oceans and wander Dream Hyrule. He took a breath. The Sea-Nightmare was rushing at him again. He leaped up and in that moment, listened for the Song of Time, and the net that it cast across everything. He could hear it, and when he did, that net became solid and caught him in mid-air. He walked across it as he did to cross the oceans. The Sea-Nightmare's tail was lashing out under him, but the movement was slow, the way a flower's movement is slow to open to the sun.

Link adjusted his grip on his sword and brought it down upon the tail, hacking its razor-blade end clean off.

The Nightmare's screech filled the air, and broke Link's grasp on time. He fell to the floor. The Sea-Nightmare lunged at him, snapping with huge jaws. Link was not ready. He barely managed to jump out of the way. The Nightmare struck again. This time, Link managed to swing his sword as he dodged, jabbing the creature in the eye.

It reeled back its head and screeched once more. Link took advantage- he closed his eyes- he could hear the song of time again. He stepped up its nets like stairs until he was over the Nightmare's snake-like head. He let himself drop with a downward thrust.

The sword crashed through its head, and the creature dropped to the ground in a heap. Link caught Time's net again and leaped away in a graceful flip, landing on his feet. With one long moan, the Sea Nightmare's song ended.

Link retrieved his sword from the Nightmare's skull. Its body began to fade as a dream might. Link took one of the torches from its pedestal and walked around to the far end of the pool, searching the cave wall for a hidden door. He found it- it swayed open easily for him. In it lay the Surf Harp.

The moon was near full when Link stepped out again onto the rocky shore. The hero made his tired way back to Marin's house. He slept for an unknown period of time, ignoring his new instrument, whose vulnerable strings seemed to beg to be plucked. Instead, he headed for the hot springs not far down a hidden path. There he bathed, washing his wounds, and stared, still exhausted, at the dusting of red stars across the perpetually black sky. A luminous shape circled lazily some ways up, catching thermals and then ducking back down and around. It filled Link with a peaceful feeling as he watched it idly, before he realized what it was: a bird. His bird.


	15. Speak Not of When We'll Meet Again

Chapter Fifteen

Speak Not Of When We'll Meet Again

* * *

Zelda shivered under the covers as she clutched Link's letter to her chest. And there, in the darkness, the hours crawled by like years. She could not get warm. The wind outside howled ceaselessly. There was no hope of sleep tonight.

The words had been said. Link loved her. There was no doubt now. But was there any hope? And the memory of Darius' mouth on hers burned with disloyalty only more. Why had she kissed him? Was she just grateful to be alive? To be free of the Witch's grotesque hovel? To feel the fresh wind of winter around her, its cold simplicity? If she told herself these were the reasons, could she believe it?

"Blood," The Witch had said: "Blood, and Light, and Truth. These are the three Powers. Light, you have already begun to master. You can create it and manipulate it with your hands. You are well on your way to being able to destroy your foes with it, if you can learn its brutal side. Blood, because that is where our passions are, our life-force. Blood is a key ingredient in resurrection spells- how, though, I'll not say. And, little Princess, you should know: Royal blood is the strongest- except, of course, for Witch's blood!" And she had cackled long and hard as though it were some horrifying joke- the game heads mounted on her wall all looked at her with fear at that laugh. "Truth is the last great power, because no one can hide from it- not for long." She had stared Zelda down with her favourite yellow eye, as if she already knew every lie Zelda was ever going to tell herself.

Zelda shivered. Link's letter crinkled slightly at the movement. She clutched it more gently, folded it carefully and put it in her pocket, beside her doll.

 _I have loved you for lifetimes, for ages upon ages._

Zelda would not hear her own thoughts. Perhaps that was why she could hear the sudden strange silence that descended over the encampment as the wind stilled.

The princess sat straight up in bed, throwing her covers back. She found the tinderbox, then decided against lighting the lamp. She slipped out of the tent; dawn was nearer than she thought. Fresh show was falling, heavy and fast. She went to Darius' tent.

"Darius-" she whispered from the entrance. He was up immediately.

"Something's wrong-" A sudden scream punctured the air some distance away. A few seconds later, someone rang an alarm bell. Darius was up, already strapping his sword around his waist.

"Do you have your sword?"

"It's still packed up with Epona-"

"All the better," Darius said, taking her arm. "Let's go."

They ran back to her tent where Epona was tied nearby. More shouts erupted.

Epona stomped her hooves as the two approached. Zelda pulled the sword and sheath from the pack and strapped them around her waist. She turned to untie Epona- she'd have no time to come back for her after leading her group away- but Darius was already there, tightening the saddle knots.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting you ready to go-" The prince said, handing her the reins.

"Go? Go where?"

"To North Castle, to have your father the King send for help from Sosaria." Moblin battle-cries filled the air now. "I'll send your handmaidens after you. I'll tell them to meet you at the ravine to the north."

"What do you mean? I'm not going-"

"You must go, Zelda!" He said it with such fierce urgency it frightened her.

A long moment stretched while their wills clashed in the darkness. Then, without another word, Zelda broke away from him and moved toward Epona. She mounted the horse in one graceful arc. Her gaze was hard as she locked eyes with him one last time- but then, reading his soul in his eyes, her anger died away. Without thinking, she reached her hand out to him. He did the same, and their fingertips barely touched as Epona shifted and started to go. But it was enough.

 _Blood, and Light, and Truth. These are the Three Powers._

With that touch, a light glowed for a brief moment. With that light, a message flashed in both their minds, a jumble of images: Bird's fluttering gray wings, Moblins carrying torches in the darkness- Death Mountain, looming far to the south. The memory of being pulled away by moblins that day in the woods, of seeing Link cry out and reach for her before everything went black...

All this, she shared with Darius, touching his mind. And four words:

 _Ganon is behind this._

Their touch was broken in another instant, as Zelda rode out into the dawn.

After an hour's ride, Zelda reached the ravine. Not long after, her handmaidens arrived, on horseback. The two younger ones shared a horse. They must have been close behind her. She looked at them for a long moment, then made her decision.

"We're going back," Zelda announced to them. They looked at her and each other in fear, but being trained by Impa in the old Sheikah way, stayed silent.

Camp, when they arrived, was a scorched mess of burned tents and huts, smoke billowing through placid snowfall. They picked their way through the smoldering debris. It was a while before they found the first corpse: a huntsman, nearly cut clean in half by a moblin's axe. His face was familiar. Zelda remembered the bodies piled in the hallways of the dungeon, their rotting stench coming back full to the moment. The bones in the corner of her cell that roaches still combed for meat. The feel of the roaches on her own skin.

There were none here, nor would there be till spring. The snow would bury the bodies by nightfall.

Zelda let the memories fall away with a grimace. This one's name couldn't come to mind.

Zelda walked to the next one, and another, and another one after that, terror growing in her heart that the next one might be Darius.

"Sora," She finally broke the silence. The oldest of the handmaidens stepped forward. "Commit to memory the names of the dead. Between the three of you, will you recognize them all?"

Sora nodded without hesitation.

Sixty-eight numbered their total. Darius was not among them- but Error was, and his face was fixed in a glare of fury, half-frozen in the snow. A half-choked sob escaped Zelda when she saw him.

The plan had always been for about that many to hold off an attack to bide time for the others to escape. There were four escape paths, each with a hideout and supplies, and a final rendezvous point in the valley close to the burning villages. That Darius was considered too important by the village to fight both rankled and relieved Zelda. Darius, too, had protested. But even if he couldn't aid in supplies and rebuilding, the villagers wouldn't have let him fight. It wasn't his village: they weren't his wives, they weren't his children.

There would be a lot of widows' tears tonight.

Zelda checked her own tent. It had been burned beyond recognition, and she had no way of telling if Bird had escaped.

"There were probably twenty or thirty moblins," Zelda concluded after they had explored all of the camp and examined what remained of the tracks. The handmaidens all nodded in agreement. "They attacked from one direction- southwest. Moblins aren't known in these parts. They must have traveled. This level of organization is unusual for moblins," She said, more to herself than the others. Moblins were solitary creatures. Only one force has ever compelled moblins to act in concert.

They searched the hide-outs, one at a time even though it was slower than searching them separately. Each one was empty of both people and supplies. No sign of the moblins reaching any of them.

"Sora," Zelda was inviting the oldest to speak, as they searched the last hide-out. "Does this add up to you? How long do you think it would it take for twenty or thirty moblins to kill seventy men?"

Sora shook her head, unshed tears in her eyes. "Not long, milady. Ten minutes, twenty at most."

"That's not enough time for the whole camp to evacuate. There are no signs of the moblins reaching any of the hide-outs. But there were no corpses either. Not one had been killed. Where did they go?" Zelda cursed. "We should have tracked them more carefully, before the snow had time to cover them."

"It was important to name the dead, milady."

"Yes," Zelda said grimly. "But we lost a piece of the puzzle for it. The dead could have waited a little longer." She had needed to know if Darius was alive. An error in judgment. She cursed herself again. How could she let her feelings get in the way of this?

She should never have left. How stupid she was! Return to North Castle to send word to Sosaria? Darius must have thought that up on the spot. A useful lie but a bad one, if she had given it even a moment's skepticism.

"Perhaps they went many different directions, to search for villagers." Sora interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes- we must get to the final rendezvous point to see if we can pick up the villagers' trail."

They reached the rendezvous point by midday. The smoke had disappeared from the villages and at that moment, the snowfall was gentle. Zelda still felt exposed. There was no sign of anyone and no hope of catching a trail.

"Good news for the villagers at least. If we can't track them, the moblins can't either."

"Milady," Sora approached. The other two, sharing a horse, came forward as well. "We must find shelter for the night. We should start looking now."

Zelda nodded, thinking. One of the plans, if they were attacked, had been to take shelter in Kakariko, the nearest of the burning villages. That was, if they had begun rebuilding it by then, which they hadn't. It was the only idea that made sense, though. Another plan included finding the next Kefei caravan, but Deko's had left three days earlier heading away from them, and the next one approaching wouldn't arrive for weeks.

"We'll go to Kakariko. If the villagers aren't there, at least we can find shelter, or make one."

They reached Kakariko, across the valley, not long before nightfall. Again, no sign of the villagers, and the buildings were unsalvageable- all but the windmill, the base of whose body was made of stone. The wood of the windmill blades was scorched but otherwise undamaged. Even the heavy door was mostly in place, off one hinge.

"Do we rest here for the night?"

"It's dangerous- there's only one entrance. There'd be no escape if we are discovered."

"Watch will have to be by the door. It's still very cold in here. Can we build a fire? Is there enough draft to take away the smoke?"

There was no building a fire, though. There was nothing to burn. They wrapped themselves as best they could, huddling together for warmth. Zelda took the first watch.

Nothing moved outside. But in the windmill, as night fell, Zelda noticed a ghost in the corner, holding a strange instrument. She watched him for a long time but he made no move. Finally, she came towards him. She had been able to see ghosts since her time in the dungeon. They did not frighten her.

"Can you tell me what happened to this village? Who threw the torches to set this place ablaze?" She whispered so as not to wake the others.

"I was already this way long before that."

 _Already this way._ Was this an ancient one? She glanced over at the girls. If they could see him, then he wasn't a ghost. He seemed to appear out of nowhere, as a ghost might, but ancient ones had a way of blending into their walls until ready to be noticed. She could reach out and touch him to see, but only the greatest of fools would try that.

"Did you protect this windmill from the fires?" She wanted to know the nature of his magick, and the nature of the fires.

But the being remained silent, his gaze unreadable. Zelda backed away from him, returned to the door- there was no helping nor being helped by him tonight. She wished she could ask a villager about him- why hadn't she thought of that before? The magick that is already in a place could give more context to the fires. Error would know all the stories of that town. Her heart ached anew: his rough, quiet voice would never give life to a story again.

Zelda was beginning to feel the exhaustion she'd been pushing away. She hadn't slept last night. Finally, when the late-rising moon had broken through the trees, she woke Sora for the next watch. By then, the being was gone. She told Sora to be on the lookout for him, but none saw him afterwards.

Dawn approached with brutal fresh winds and bleak sun. Careful accounting of their supplies left the group only one option: to return to North Castle, and quickly, before they were forced to eat one of the horses.

Zelda wished mightily for parchment. She would gladly draw blood to leave an angry note.

"Sora, Omra, Kera, let's leave a sign for Darius, for when he comes back here. I want him to know I defied him."

The girls grinned, and together they quickly gathered stones and laid them out across the floor of the windmill. When they were done, Zelda regarded their work from the doorway.

The lines spanned the floor to make a giant form, its bottom edges touching the walls, its top reaching the capstan wheel.

Darius had heard its name spoken. Now he would know its shape.

The shape of her soul: the Triforce.


	16. When The Battle's Lost And Won

Chapter Sixteen - When the Battle's Lost and Won

Every morning, before dawn, Zelda woke to an unheard sound.

Being back, Zelda found herself struck strangely dumb- there was no one with whom she could talk about everything that happened. Even Impa was away, visiting kin.

Bird had followed her back to North Castle, had flown to her on the first night she made camp outside of the burned out village. Zelda thought unceasingly of the letter she needed to write Link, but no thoughts came, that could be distilled into a single scroll Bird could carry. So she threw herself into her books. She was a meticulous record-keeper and, now that pen and ink and paper and she were together, she set about writing down everything that happened in the past five months. Memory came to her unbounded. Each day was clear in her mind- aided by her habit of charting the stars' movements, the patterns in the weather, the change in the seasons; her keeping of the days, marking the shortening of the hours and their growth after the stars stationed themselves for three days, as every year they faithfully did- the animal augaries that she noted with great care, weaving into her story, a story she kept for Link.

Now, she wrote it all down, committing hours to it, everyday, sinking her cup deep into the well of memory, holding nothing back. She wrote about the tents, the villagers, the way the smoke plumed from the fires in the valley day after day, the things she learned about each of the villagers, as she learned them, as they slowly revealed their stories to her. She no longer needed her handmaids to remember their names.

As she approached the day of the attack, she wanted to write less and less- found herself using precious ink to draw- a frivolous amusement, she always thought. But the senseless lines she scratched this way and that, in frenetic movements across the paper, began to mold themselves into images- the trees, the mountains, tents scattered in the snow- men chopping wood, sharp, silent axes; children running, muddy footprints- the Stag, oh, the Stag. The Witch's sign rising into the sky, a thin trail on the horizon. The faces of the people who moved about her, people whose breath was no more.

And Darius' face. Darius- his face slowly, over countless attempts, taking on a true likeness as her hands learned to convey what her mind's eye saw. And a feeling, too- a feeling in his eyes, his face, his hands at his sides. A feeling she couldn't name- in fact, everything went nameless, as those drawings took over her record book like a beautiful disease. In time, the images themselves morphed from memory into something else: things that had never been. She drew each and every person who died. She drew them asleep, peaceful in the snow, with vines growing out of them and fat raindrops landing on their brows. She drew their thoughts rooting out underneath them into the ground, the secret things she imagined they loved about life. She drew the mist of their souls rising out of their bodies and becoming snow on the mountain. She drew things that had no earthly image. She drew the sound of the wind carrying snowdrift, the sound of the inaudible breath Darius took before he spoke- those nights around the campfire, or those confrontations- when his face was just inches from hers. She drew the honey pouring out of her heart that dark night as she lay sleepless with Link's letter pressed against her chest.

She passed each silent morning this way, at her desk, by whatever light her narrow window allowed. Hours, from dawn to some unknown hour, interrupted only by the gentle unlatching of her door signaling a maid's entrance, the soft scraping of iron against embers to stoke the dying fire.

When hunger would finally rouse her, she would make her way to the kitchen for bread, and if the weather was nice, wander for a while in the dim winter sunlight among the brambles that were once her mother's garden. Otherwise, she would wander the unused parts of the castle- the abandoned rooms of her childhood. The entire east wing had long fallen into disrepair. As a child, Zelda would play hide and seek with Impa in those rooms among the piles of broken furniture. Sometimes she would walk alone through room after dusty room, wondering at the sun-damaged tapestries, the cracked paint in the gilding, the empty fireplaces that looked like anguished faces, weeping. She would make up stories about the ghosts in each room.

As she got older, she avoided those rooms, which spoke so clearly of her mother's departure. Until now.

Harkinian kept one ballroom in good order, and the other, he converted into the Great Library over the past sixteen years. He told Zelda once it had been where he, as a visiting prince from Catalia far to the west, had first laid eyes on her mother. He never returned to Catalia- they fell in love and married before the turn of the year. That ballroom was where he most felt her presence. She was renowned for her dancing, and the light falling in from the high windows reminded him that it once lit up the Queen's shining gold hair and graceful arms.

Harkinian converted it to a library so he'd have an excuse to still go in there. And it was there that Zelda always ended up, finally crossing from the abandoned wing to the west wing- to wander among the books as the light dwindled, always picking one or two to read by candlelight in her room, once the sun fully set and her eyes ached from reading in the twilight.

At sunset, she would join her father for dinner.

He always asked her what she was reading. Her answers always had to be careful.

Hyrulean history. Records of Ganon's movements in all of the battles that took place since his rise.

Spellbooks that Impa smuggled in, from unknown sources. Folk tales, faerie tales, stories of ghosts, stories of the Ancient men. Medical texts, her eyes having seen so many new wounds recently. What answer would most avoid disturbing her father, most likely keep at bay his questions?

"A letter came to me from your cousin Delia," was the king's unexpected news one evening as Zelda watched a pale sun disappear over the mountains through the window. She had lingered too long in the library, and he had sought her out. "It's time you paid her a visit. She has matters that could use your insight."

Zelda didn't look up from the book she was reading.

Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh. "You should visit your cousin Delia," He started again, "Because Delia is happy and carefree in a way you've never allowed yourself to be. You need to learn this quality from her."

Slowly, she closed the book and looked up at him.

"Why did you blame Link, Father?" Her voice was soft at first, but the anger behind it grew. "How can you speak of my happiness, when you are the one who took my happiness away? Why did you send Link away? Why?!"

He looked at her, speechless, aghast, for a moment. Then his gaze softened to regret. Zelda could feel the tears coming to her eyes now. Whatever he was going to say, perhaps she didn't want to hear.

"Zelda… I never _blamed_ Link… when you were under the spell of sleep, and Link fought night and day to free you from that spell… I saw that he loved you, and would be a better husband to you than anyone else I could find in the world. But he came from no noble blood, could bring no alliance to our royal house, and consequently no added strength, no protection. What he could offer, though, was an army. If I put him in charge of restoring Hyrule's armies to their former power, then he could rise up and serve you, and rightfully take his place by your side. So I sent him away with purses full of rupees, to travel the world and learn all the secrets and strategies of combat he could find. I sent him away so that, in time, he could be worthy of your hand."

"Oh… Father…" Zelda could barely whisper. She turned away from him, sat back down at the table with a thud.

"I'm sorry, Zelda," The king's throat seemed to close around those words. "I meant for him to come back… I never meant to cause you this pain."

Zelda felt like all the blood had drained from her. When it was clear she wouldn't look up at him again, her father took his leave.

And Zelda knew exactly what she needed to write to Link.


	17. Keeper of the Songs of Birds

Chapter Seventeen

 **Keeper of the Songs of Birds**

Link got out of the hot springs and dressed quickly as he waited for Bird to make his descent. But Bird never wavered from his wide, slow circle. When he finally started to fly away, Link followed him. He followed the pigeon through Mabe and into the woods, into a small clearing where stood a log cabin. Bird descended, landed on a tree and then a windowsill before flying through the open window.

Link stood on the edge of the clearing, wondering what to do, when the door to the cottage opened and an old man stepped out, Bird now perched on his shoulder. He called out to Link.

"My friend tells me you followed him here. Please- come inside- we get so few visitors."

"Forgive me," The hero said as he approached. "I am called Link, of Hyrule, and..." he took a closer look at Bird and frowned. "And your friend is not who I first thought he was when I spied him in the sky. I'm sorry to have-"

"Ah, Link! Well, come in! Marin has told me all about you." He turned toward the house.

"...Marin?"

"Yes, Marin, of course!" And the old man chuckled. "You're the one she asked to borrow Atja for, correct?" He didn't wait for an answer as he led Link into the cottage.

The old man's house was filled with birds. Birds, everywhere- perched on the wooden beams above, perched on specially-made perches, some intricately carved- in bird cages, flitting in and out of windows... beautiful, luminous pigeons, their flapping wings and croons filling the cottage with music.

"You must be Mr. Write," Link realized. He took a closer look at the old man. He was small and thin-boned, and the smile stretched across his face seemed permanent. He was bald on top with long white hair ringing the rest of his head in a matted mess, and he wore spectacles with octagonal rims. His fingers were long and slender, and he touched the tips of his fingers together as though poised for a profound thought.

"Indeed you are right, young Link of Hyrule. Have you visited Hyrule while you've been on this side? It's very beautiful. I went there once or twice in my hey-day." And he let out a guffaw, holding onto his belly as though the thought of adventures in his hey-day might make it explode.

"Aye, I have, and you're right: it's beautiful, there's nothing like it." Link responded. "So... Atja is the name of the bird that carries messages for me?"

"Oh yes, Marin requested Atja specifically. Atja is the best flier I know. He used to deliver letters to my lady-friend for me, before she passed." When his smile fell, he seemed frailer.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Link said. "Your lady-friend lived far away?"

"Yes- and in the Other Realm, too. We had not seen each other for many, many years- but we wrote to each other faithfully, right up until she passed, a few years ago. Cara-Cylene was her name."

"A beautiful name."

"Yes, yes," Mr. Write nodded. For a moment he stared off, distracted by memories. Then he shook himself out of it.

"Would you like some tea? I promise there'll be no bird-poop in it."

Link let out a laugh, and said, "Yes, I'd love some." Mr. Write shuffled into the kitchen and Link had another look around. The floors, perches, furniture- everything, indeed, had its share of bird-poop. Link supposed it just came with the territory.

"I'm afraid all I have left is hibiscus," Mr. Write called from the kitchen.

"That's fine," Link responded, and Mr. Write returned with a tray and a blanket. The blanket he laid out over the sofa.

"Do sit down," the old man said. "Forgive me: I try to stay more on top of all the bird-pooh, but lately it's been getting harder..."

"No need to worry, sir, I'm just grateful you agreed to loan Atja's services, without even knowing me..."

"Believe me, Marin's recommendation is more than enough in your favor. I trust you've been successful in exchanging letters with your princess?"

"Yes- Atja is amazing. Does he travel between the Realms, too?"

"He must go through with help from the Priestesses at the Temple. With all this flickering going on, though, he might have trouble..."

Link tried not to show his disappointment. So Atja might not be able to reach him here... something else suddenly popped into his mind. He said it without thinking.

"It's funny, I haven't happened on your house in the Other Realm... I should have by now, it's not far from Mabe..."

Mr. Write nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, well, you wouldn't have, it's just an abandoned old shack over there."

"You mean... you're not from the Other Realm? You haven't flickered here with the rest of the island?"

"Oh, no, I'm not originally from the Other Realm, I'm from here."

"But... I was under the impression that those who were born on this side could still live there..."

"Oh yes, that is the case. Sixty years ago, when the WindFish fell asleep, all the island's inhabitants, save a few, were carried over to the Other Realm where the sky is bright but the birds and plants have no glow. Some of the Priestesses of the WindFish stayed, and a few have arrived here since, but I cannot go to the Other Realm."

"Why not?"

"Because I cannot sleep."

It took a moment for this to sink in. "I... I don't understand..."

Mr. Write sat down on the other side of the sofa and turned to face Link. "To have a connection to the mirror side of the Realm in which you were born, you must have a shadow-self, a self that dreams. You, in fact, sitting in front of me, are the shadow self of the real you sleeping in the Other Realm." The old man cocked his head to one side. "Hmmm, you must not be able to wake up in the Other Realm, or your shadow self would be over there and you wouldn't be wandering around here. Are you injured, in the Other Realm?"

"Yes," Link said, a little astonished. "You can tell I'm a shadow-self, just by looking at me?" _He_ didn't even know he was a shadow-self.

"Have you looked in a mirror since you've been here, young friend? We all look somewhat different in the Other Realm than we do here, but your Dream self is so utterly apparent, you must not have brought any of your Other self with you."

"So... I can't go back to the Other Realm because I can't wake up. And you can't go there because you can't sleep."

"Exactly. I do not have a shadow self because I cannot sleep. For me, being from here, the Other Realm is the stuff of dreams, as I'm sure this Realm is for you. But how can I access the stuff of dreams if I cannot sleep? Indeed, I haven't slept in sixty years, since WindFish fell asleep."

Link took a moment to let this sink in. There were mysteries here he wasn't understanding... to not sleep for so many, many years... then came a moment of clarity.

"Cara-Cylene. She became a Master of the WindFish, didn't she?"

Mr. Write let out a bark of surprised laughter. "You're clever, for a young one. Yes, sixty years ago... we were just coming of age- seventeen, I suppose you'd say, although dream-time works differently. She was great of heart and mind, too great even for this enchanted island to contain her." His smile faded, and wrinkles of old memories settled in. "I loved her more than anything. But she had to go. She was Called, as so lucky few of us are called to a great destiny. She defeated the nightmares, retrieved the instruments, and became Master of the WindFish."

"I don't understand... if she retrieved the instruments, why are they still here, and why do nightmares have them still?"

"The instruments stay on the island. They belong to the WindFish, and cannot be taken away off the island. When Cara-Cylene retrieved them, she brought them all to the top of the mountain where the WindEgg now stands. She played each in turn, and the WindFish, off flying the Other Realm on his own adventures, heard. He was beckoned by the song. He returned, circled around and around the mountaintop, and finally landed, furled his wings, nestled his beak into his fish-scale chest, and slept. Over the years, an egg formed around him, bringing him deeper and deeper into sleep, protecting him from waking. In the early days, there was a lot of flickering between the two Realms, but no longer.

"When Cara-Cylene finished lulling the WindFish to sleep, she left the instruments in the care of the Priestesses, as is the practice. But over the years, one by one, nightmares of the WindFish formed, and each stole an instrument from the Temple. They each hid with their prize and grew on its power. Such is the way and always has been, with the WindFish. Perhaps that is why He calls out to travelers on the seas, beckoning or storming them to the Island, hoping that one would destroy all the nightmares so He can have His power back. If heroes didn't come, perhaps the Nightmares would gain too much power and the WindFish would die- then what would happen to dreams?"

Link nodded, deep in thought. "You are very generous to explain all this to me," he finally said, more wary than he understood why.

"Oh, well," Mr. Write let out a light chuckle. "You are on the Quest, no? Such has Marin told me. Anything to help the Hero along on his Quest."

Something about the way the old man said this didn't sit well with Link. His senses were suddenly all on alert, the way they would turn in the woods when it was too quiet for monsters to not be nearby.

Mr. Write didn't seem dangerous. But there was something...

Link took a gulp of the tea Mr. Write had given him. The hibiscus flavors were deep and aromatic. He swallowed, eying the old man in front of him.

"So when Cara-Cylene became Master of the WindFish, she crossed over to the Other Realm with everyone else?"

"Yes, and she took Atja with her, to write to me."

"I really cannot thank you enough for loaning Atja to me," Link said again, still sincere, although shadows lingered now, too.

"Well, you're quite welcome, my boy," Mr. Write's cheer seemed frail. "Atja was getting restless since Cara-Cylene died a few years ago, anyway. He's happy to be on another adventure."

 _Atja's long-lived for a bird,_ Link thought, but said nothing.

"Yes, I was grateful to exchange letters with her. But I never saw her in person again. The Master of the WindFish can come and go as she pleases, but not anyone else. The rest of us are at the whims of fate. I, doubly so, for I cannot even cross as the island flickers back and forth."

"But you were able to travel off the island in this Realm once the WindFish fell asleep and everyone else crossed. In your 'hey-day,' as you called it." Link said with a carefully planned grin.

"Yes, yes, that's true my boy!" Mr. Write chuckled. "Well, I'll explain it to you. See, the Master receives the most power. The Master can travel anywhere he or she wants, in either Realm, after awakening or lulling to sleep the WindFish. Next are the Priestesses, who can travel between the two Realms as they please, but cannot leave the island. They also help the birds travel as they please. Everyone else crosses with the WindFish, to this Realm when He is awake, or the Other Realm when He is asleep. They stray to the island- no one is actually born here- and only once they have crossed to their opposite Realm and back again are they free to leave."

"You have to cross _twice_ before you can leave the island?! But that could take longer than a lifetime!"

"Yes, yes, my boy. The WindFish has compassion, though. Only those with the strongest wills retain any memories of their lives before they arrived at the island. Most simply forget." The old man's eyes grew dark. "Most live in a blissful fog of forgetting."

Link thought of Tarin, happiest out on his boat, no memory of where he came from or what he had left behind. He thought of Marin, haunted by the thought of the mother that her father couldn't even remember.

"Forgive me for asking, but... do _you_ remember where you came from?"

"My boy," Mr. Write's eyes were still dark with shadows. "I don't remember anything before Cara-Cylene arrived."

Link felt a little like he'd been punched in the stomach. He knew a little what that felt like. He certainly remembered his early life, but it hadn't really begun until he had laid eyes on Zelda.

"I'm sorry..." Link could hardly whisper. Was Mr. Write so eager for the WindFish to awaken so he could finally leave, and find Cara-Cylene? But she was dead...

"So, everyone except the Master has to wait for two crossings before they can leave the island."

"Yes," Mr. Write shook himself out of his reveries and took on a matter-of-fact tone. "And even then, they can still only travel their own Realm, not the one in which they had to spend so much time waiting. But, my young friend, there is a choice for those who have only crossed once." With these words, in his eyes grew glints of a strange kind of glee.

"What choice is that?" Link asked. Then he noticed: all the birds in the house had fallen silent. Not a one even moved. They all stared intently at Link and Mr. Write, heads cocked so one eye could fix on them. Mr. Write looked up at them, beaming with affection.

"Birds..." Link slowly realized. "They can become birds..."

Mr. Write nodded eagerly. "A long time can pass between crossings, my young boy, and no one can tell when the next crossing will happen, let alone the one after that! That's a long time to wait, just to be able to travel again in your own Realm! But as a bird, you can fly, and travel both Realms with a simple visit to the Temple... and the WindFish blesses you with eternal life. Only if you are struck down- by hunter, accident or fate- can that gift be taken from you."

"And these... all of these birds... chose..."

"Quite so, my boy, quite so! And, oh, what a lovely choice they've made!" He clapped his hands together, and suddenly, as though a spell was broken, the birds began crooning and fluttering around, preening feathers, swooping in and out of windows. Mr. Write watched them rapturously, his robin's-egg blue eyes glistening with longing.

"You wish you made their choice," Link said quietly, watching the old man. Slowly, shoulders sagging, he nodded. He leaned back into the dusty sofa. His next words were spoken in a completely different tone.

"Cara-Cylene urged me not to. She couldn't understand- she was already so free. 'Live!' she had said. 'Life is so endlessly beautiful. Live and love again,' she said. She felt that no love could ever be stronger than love for life. She felt that choosing to become a bird was an escape, and unworthy of me. These birds are magical, young Link," he gestured broadly at them. They prattled a loud crooning response. "But I've watched them a long time. They do not choose mates. Whatever loves they held as men and women, they hold forever.

"'Live and love again,' Cara-Cylene had told me. So I lived. I stayed as I was. But I never loved again. I realized I loved Cara-Cylene more than life. When the island crossed as she left, I was left behind in the Dream Realm, because I couldn't sleep any longer. Why sleep, when all my dreams had just left me? So the Temple Priestesses begged the sleeping WindFish in their secret way on my behalf. He released me so I could roam this Realm. And I did, for years and years."

"But you returned here."

"Yes... once I realized that the whole time, I had been searching for Cara-Cylene- for a way to cross or even a dream-shadow of her, as sometimes those of the Other Realm project. So I came back, knowing once and forever that, apart from our letters, she was lost to me."

Mr. Write narrowed his eyes and his tone took a bitter edge.

"If I were a bird, I could have flown to the Other Realm. I could have found her, followed her, befriended her, become her trusted companion... she would never have had to even know that it was me. I could have been near her always."

Link was shocked into silence at this. To imagine Cara-Cylene, being so haunted... A new bird swooped in from an open window and landed on Mr. Write's shoulder.

"Ah! Kemi, thankyou! Kemi brought a letter from Mrs. Jennings of Blossom Row." His original cheer returned with an immediacy that sent chills down Link's spine.

"M-Mrs. Jennings?" Link cleared his throat, trying to sound normal.

"Yes, a friend of mine. She lives just down the road from Marin. But I've made many friends, from all over. I've kept in touch with all of them through my bird-friends." He stroked Kemi's crest delightedly. Then he grew serious again.

"I don't think you should tell anyone what I've told you, Link." He said it in a way that was clearly not a mere suggestion. "Especially Marin."

"Why not?"

Mr. Write's expression melted into a smile again, but it was a smile Link could no longer trust.

"All these things I've told you, Link, are Mysteries of the WindFish. They are meant to be kept secret. Inhabitants of Koholint don't become aware of their choice until the last hour before they first cross. And even then, it's not quite a choice. The WindFish reads into each captive's mind- reads their dreams. If they have dreamed of being a bird, or of flying, enough times, then the WindFish grants their wish. They become aware of this as he reads their dreams. Only through a wish of great strength can the captive convince the WindFish not to grant according to what he has previously dreamed. In this way, because of Cara-Cylene's urging, did I convince the WindFish that my dreams of flying weren't true. I have regretted that decision for countless years.

"You're saying," Link kept his voice as calm as he could, "That to interfere with the WindFish's dream-reading is wrong, and can be detrimental."

"It _is_ detrimental!" Mr. Write snapped. Kemi let out a squawk and took flight. Mr. Write clenched and unclenched his fists, crumpling Mrs. Jennings' letter as he did so. Finally, he calmed into a smile. "The way of the God of Dreams is the best way. The God of Dreams knows our inner hearts, after all." He drummed his long, slender fingers together placidly. But in his eyes, Link saw something else: a hunger- a ravaging, vengeful, lustful hunger of one who awaits the trapping of their chosen victim.

Link's stomach went cold. He said his next words with calculated nonchalance- but in his heart, he already knew the answer.

"I wonder if Marin ever dreams of being a bird..."

For a moment, Mr. Write had a hunted look, but he hid it with a chuckle.

"Oh, well, my dear boy, who wouldn't dream of flying? Just look at these magnificent creatures!" And he gestured grandly at his friends once more, who, as if commanded, all took flight, flapping and swooshing this way and that among the rafters like a living cloud. They glowed luminous like the clouds of this world, too. The sight was wondrous, even as a dark epiphany formed in Link's heart.

Mr. Write _wanted_ Marin to become a bird. _His_ bird.

"Sweet little Marin is such a free spirit, it would seem almost fitting if that were her fate, no? She reminds me a little of Cara-Cylene that way: so eager to roam the wide world... she even looks a little like her..."

Link sat absolutely still, his face perfectly blank, while his insides twisted.

Was Mr. Write _gloating?_ He must feel that he has won already, else why speak like this...

There was a knock on the door.

"Ah! The islanders must have flickered back! It's so nice to see so many friendly faces these days..."

Link felt a growing sense of dread as Mr. Write shuffled to the door. He knew exactly who would be on the other side.


	18. Hope Falls Like Feathers

Chapter Eighteen

Hope Flourishes And Falls Like Feathers

Mr. Write took his time answering the door.

"Good day!" Marin greeted him at the door. Her voice floated into the room, light and musical, a tone specially saved, it seemed, for him.

"Marin! Welcome!" And Mr. Write took her hand and kissed it like a gentleman. Above, the birds crooned and chirruped, preening with self-importance. "You've come at just the right time," He said, leading the island-girl into the cottage.

"Hello, Marin," Link called out from the shadows, sounding strange to himself.

"Link! I've been looking for you!" He could tell she wanted to rush forward into an embrace, but he hung back, and Mr. Write still had her hand.

"Why don't you both come into the kitchen, where there isn't so much bird-pooh, and I'll make you some tea." Marin let out a hearty laugh at his joke. Link cringed and followed them.

"It's good to see you, young Marin," Mr. Write was telling her as he pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table. Decidedly fewer birds occupied the kitchen, though Link had to shoo one away from his chair to sit down. The table was pushed up against a window and the moon and ghost-sun both shone through, like a brilliantly bright full-moon night in the Other Realm, or perhaps even a twilight. There was just enough room at the table for three to sit cozily, and Link sat directly across from Marin. Mr. Write took a few minutes to gather teacups from cabinets and hang a fresh kettle over the fire, all the while humming to himself. As he did, Link watched Marin greet a pigeon- Kemi, perhaps- beckon it to land on her arm, and stroke its throat while it crooned. Another flapped down and landed on her shoulder, surprising her.

She was devastatingly, heart-breakingly beautiful.

Here, in the strange light, her eyes took on a stunning hue, dark and sparkling.

She caught his eye and her smile only grew- Link's breath caught in his throat.

"I'm glad to see you alive," she said, turning her smile back to her bird-friends. "We could all feel it on the Other side when you defeated the Angler Fish."

Link let out a bark of laughter. " _That_ was that thing's _name_?"

Marin laughed, then her smile faltered. "I just remembered-" and she withdrew a small scroll from her pocket. "Atja's been having trouble getting through, so I held onto it, so that when the island flickered again, I could give it to you." She held out Zelda's letter to him.

Link hesitated, then took it with a look of gratitude. Resisting the temptation to tear it open and read it immediately, he stuffed it into his pocket.

"Thank-you, Marin."

Something had changed in her. She could only hide it with that dazzling smile of hers for a moment here, there. She looked… tired… deeply tired. Had something happened to her, in the topside realm?

Was it because of him? How many months were continuing to pass, with him in a death-like coma?

"Ah!" Mr. Write called over his shoulder as he knelt over the hearth. "A letter from your princess, eh?" And he chuckled. "An ambitious young lad we have here, eh, Marin?"

Marin smiled as though the joke were funny. Link flushed, alarm ringing through him again.

"Yes," Mr. Write continued. "Young Link is very lucky to have such a great destiny laid out for him, wouldn't you say so, Marin? He'll soon become Master of the WindFish, and when he returns to his homeland, a beautiful princess will be waiting for him. If only we were all so blessed!"

 _What is he playing at?_ Every nerve was on edge in Link's body. Did he not know the things he was saying? That he was hurting Marin?

The island-girl took a deep breath and forced a smile back on her face, keeping her voice light.

"Well, he deserves it," and she met Link's eye as she said it. What he saw in her gaze was sincerity- the hard look of honesty. She was brave, for being so sincere. He loved her for it.

"I am blessed," Link said, holding her gaze. "I'm blessed in all my friends, who have taught me so much." His throat began to close on him with that last sentence. He extended a hand to Marin over the table.

Before he could close any distance, however, Mr. Write appeared, and placed a saucer right in his way. Link withdrew his hand and looked up at the intruder with suspicious eyes. The old man placed a mismatched teacup on the saucer and poured tea from the teapot.

"I'm afraid all I have left is hibiscus, dear little Marin," he said, patting her arm. He continued as he laid out a saucer and teacup for her, "Yes, well, he deserves every good thing that comes to him, doesn't he? But a princess' love is a rare and precious thing. Tell us about her, young Link. Marin says you're quite close to her?"

That was when Link realized: Mr. Write must have known Marin's feelings for Link. She mustn't have been able to hide them from him. Now he was using that knowledge to manipulate her.

"Why don't you read us the letter?" Mr. Write crooned when Link didn't answer. "It'd be nice to hear news of Hyrule of the Other Realm, and a princess' words must be so eloquent..."

"It's okay, Mr. Write, that letter is for Link's eyes only, he shouldn't feel obligated to share them with us..."

"But he is among friends!" Mr. Write gestured broadly. "Surely he is not afraid to hide anything from _you,_ who has become such a close confidant." Above, the gathering of birds shifted restlessly.

"But..." Marin tried again, the pain in her voice ill-concealed. "There could be... there could be Hyrulean secrets that- that shouldn't be shared..."

"Oh, pshaw," Mr. Write sounded like a condescending parent. "Link doesn't need to worry about us, we're never going to leave this island, let alone act as spies against Hyrule..."

 _How dare he..._ Link's hands tightened into fists. Mr. Write would say anything if it increased Marin's chances of wanting to turn into a bird and fly away. How dare he toy with her heart like that... Link had to get Marin away from this..

"I'm sorry," Link eyed Mr. Write. "But it isn't in my power to share words sealed with the Royal Crest."

"Very well then," Mr. Write dropped the subject with satisfaction. Link looked over at Marin. She held her head high but didn't look at him..

"Well, I should be going," Link said as casually as possible. "Marin, care to join me? I'd like to visit your father before everyone flickers back to the Other Realm."

"Oh, but you've just arrived!" Mr. Write said, clasping a hand on both their shoulders. So they moved back into the living room, bringing the tea with them, and spent time speaking to and stroking the birds. Marin laughed readily at all of Mr. Write's jokes, and was kind to Link, with just enough hints of her old humor to break his heart. But Mr. Write had long succeeded in breaking _her_ heart. No- Link had. Mr. Write just said enough words by now to finish the job.

After a long time, they finally left the cottage. There couldn't be much time before Marin flickered away from him again. He walked with her heading back to her house by way of the beach. Large pieces of twisting driftwood littered the stretch of sand, a faint glow still there from when they once lived as trees.

When they were out of sight of Mr. Write's house, Link wasted no time.

"Marin, there's something I must tell you. You are not safe with Mr. Write. He has ill intentions for you. Please understand: when the WindFish awakens, He will search your heart. If you've dreamt of being a bird enough times, He will turn you into one."

Marin turned to him with a look of surprise.

"What do you mean by this?" She said, keeping her composure.

"Everyone who crosses once gets a choice. The WindFish makes the decision by looking into your dreams, but you can change His mind if you have the will to do so."

Marin stood and stared at Link for a long moment, absorbing his words. Her expression was unreadable.

"Is that so?" She finally asked.

"Mr. Write wants to make you his bird, Marin- you can't become a bird-"

"None of those birds belongs to Mr. Write- No bird ever belongs to anyone-"

"Think about it, Marin, would any normal bird spend so much time up in Mr. Write's rafters?"

Marin kept walking, but he could tell she was beginning to have doubts. How long had Mr. Write been poisoning her mind, filling it with fantasies of freedom and wings? Link pressed on, keeping pace with her.

"Those birds aren't free, Marin. They don't take mates. They don't love. They don't nest, and they don't have families."

Marin stopped, looked up at the starry sky. "They can fly, though."

Link moved in front of her, taking her hands and bringing them up to the level of his chest.

"Not like you," he said. "I've never seen anything fly the way you do." And the memories of the Goddess Dance came back to him, the drumming, her hands fast and agile like birds but so much stronger, waves of rhythm thundering through everything.

Marin finally looked up at him, her eyes glistening. He drew a deep breath.

"Marin, I… I have to go back to Hyrule. There is a great danger there, and I must see if I can defeat it. But- but you must know... I..."

But what words could he say to her now, without making things worse?

"I- I'll come back- I'll lull the WindFish to sleep again if it means winning your freedom... but you can't become a bird, Marin, you must understand..."

Marin searched his eyes for a long time, then finally pulled away.

"Don't make a promise like that, Link, it's too much."

They arrived at the narrow path leading up to Marin's house, but neither one continued. Instead, Marin walked a little farther on, closer to where the water reached out for the sand, and gathering her skirts around her, sat down. After a moment, Link joined her.

"You have to go back to Hyrule, and I would not take you away from your destiny there." Marin let out a ragged sigh. "I'll keep in mind what you've said, Link. But you must understand- Mr. Write isn't a bad man, he's just... lonely. I feel a kinship with him. Don't think so ill of him."

Not wanting to alienate her any more than he had, Link remained silent. They faced the luminescent waters for some time, letting the sound of the waves sink into their bones.

"I trust you told the princess how you feel, like I urged you to," Marin broke the silence after a while.

"Yes," Link said, turning to watch her.

"You don't feel quite the same as you did, though do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Marin dug her fingers into the sand, searching for words. "I mean, you're not as hopeful. You're letting despair get to you."

Link turned her words over in his mind. Finally, he nodded.

"Have you gone to Dream Hyrule to find her?"

"I did- but she remains elusive as ever. I don't think she will be mine, Marin. I don't think I'll have anyone. When I think of Zelda, I don't have much room for great thoughts of love anymore. I'm just tired.

"I've wandered for so long- nearly my whole life. For a time, I felt grounded: I'd saved the princess, melded with the Triforce of Courage... I felt tied in with Destiny. But I've been gone from Hyrule for nearly two years. I've been unable to claim that destiny. I'm unable to protect Zelda and Hyrule from harm, and Ganon, after all this time, is still a terrible threat. What am I, Marin, if I can't keep evil at bay, and fulfill my destiny?"

At this Marin laughed- how someone could laugh with both bitterness and generosity, Link didn't know, but he heard the song of both underneath.

"Most of us have no great destiny, Link- and maybe you don't, either. Maybe you'll never leave this island, or you'll meet some random accidental death, and the Triforce of Courage will just be a glow in some far-off realm for pretty goddesses to admire." Link looked at her in horror until she saw her mischievous smile.

"Maybe you'll defeat Ganon, and win your princess' heart, and everything will be grand, or maybe she'll be not what you thought she was, or she'll change, and break your heart, or something else will break her heart, and she'll be lost to you. Maybe _you'll_ break her heart. You cannot know what will happen.

"Most of us are not handed purses full of gold by kings, Link. Most of us live the same life every day, eating fish and fruit, and we watch the same trees grow up and grow strong, we watch horses and dogs grow old, we lose our loved ones to death, and, if you're on this island, even to forgetting. Be grateful for what you have. You have fragrant air to breathe, fish to eat, hills to climb where you can see lovely views unfold. You are strong of spirit, and when you wake you will be strong of body again.

"You are angry and confused and in pain because you are stuck, far away from your destiny. Well…. Welcome to what life is like for the rest of the us, then. We're all dream-chasers, Link. Defeating evil is not your dream alone and it is not your task alone, either. Maybe your Princess Zelda has her own dreams, her own heart. This evil you're fighting is hers to fight, too. You have the privilege of great power and strength, but it's everyone's responsibility to fight evil where they see it, however they can."

There was a flash of something in Marin's eyes, for just a moment, a thought of some doubt- Link could not read it. She caught him watching her, and recovered.

"I'm not saying, don't leave," Marin let out a wry smile and stuck her tongue out at him as she stood, brushed the sand off her dress, and picked up the hibiscus flower that had dropped from her hair.

"They say few are called. I say we are all called, Link. We all have love in our hearts, for this life and for this world. We all have hearts that need a home and need a destiny."

With that, she headed up the path towards the house.

"Wait!" Link ran to catch up with her. She turned to face him.

"You're a Priestess of the Temple, aren't you? That's why Mr. Write knows and is friends with you- because you can travel between the Realms."

A long moment passed before she responded, but finally, she nodded. "I'm an initiate of the Temple, and have been training to be a Priestess since I was little."

Link remembered what she had tried to tell him when he first woke up, about the rules of time and space...

"You interceded with the Priestesses on my behalf, didn't you? So that I could travel to Hyrule while in the Dream Realm."

 _Have you gone to Dream Hyrule to find her?_ She had asked. She had done it so he could find Zelda.

The island-girl broke into a grin. "Did you like my elaborate lies about searching the library for answers? I'm particularly proud of that."

"Marin… why are you helping me find Zelda? I thought you felt…"

"Ha!" She let out a bark of laughter. "I'm in love with you, Link, but love isn't for keeps. Besides. I have so few girl-friends. If I met the princess I'd want her to be my friend too." With one more thought, she added, "Don't give up looking for her, while you're on this side. She is probably looking for you too."

With that, Marin turned and ambled up the path toward the house, her dark hair swaying gently. Link watched her go, then pulled the scroll letter out of his pocket.

Carefully, he broke the wax seal imprinted by Zelda's signet ring, and unfurled the parchment.

 _Dearest Link-_

 _Your letter reaches me at my darkest hour. All that we have worked for has been burned away. I am not myself- indeed, I am a shadow of myself, back in the halls of my childhood, lost. I fear your return as much as I long for it. I fear that you will find a frail ghost of what you loved, and will turn away from me._

 _For I love you, Link, with a passion that is destroying me. I spend every moment grieving my loss of you. I cannot find joy anywhere. I cannot live._

 _I am trying to be strong, for the sake of Hyrule, my father, and those who have befriended me, but I am at a loss._ You _were my strength. Your friendship, your laughter, your spirit, your kindness- they were my light and my breath. Your bravery was my inspiration; your humility, my muse._

 _I am not myself. Being apart from you and feeling such despair has forced me to reckon with gods I did not know before. The angels of life and death fight within me. Life strives to make known its presence in me. Death argues, what is life without love?_

 _We have been friends for so long. Now, know my soul: my deepest, most basic need is the very thing I cannot have: you, here, by my side. I have always loved you and always will. I wish I was stronger, but I am not: I despair at the loss of you._

 _I remain yours,_

 _Zelda._


End file.
